Fireballmonkey's Sample Stories
by Fireballmonkey
Summary: These are just a bunch of ideas for stories that I've had. Thought I'd put some of them out there to read. Some are crossovers, some are OC-centric, some are Jaune-Centric, some are etc., you get the point. Go ahead and read and see what you like!
1. 1: Collateral Beauty

**Collateral Beauty**

 **Summary: Jaune watched his sister die of cancer when he was fourteen. Since then, he's closed himself up completely. Who has the determination and compassion to help him finally work through his severe emotional issues?**

* * *

 _Love, Time and Death. These three abstractions connect every single human being on Earth. Everything we covet, everything we fear not having, everything we ultimately end up getting is because, at the end of the day, we long for love, we wish we had more time, and we fear death._

 _Love. Time. Death. Let's begin there. - Will Smith._

* * *

Jaune kneeled to keep the tabletop at eye level as he lay the last dominoes down. This area of the enormous structure was built with a pattern of blue, purple and yellow tiles. Once he finished, he took a quick glance around the U of tables that lined about two and a half of the walls. They were piled, arranged and placed along the surface to form large patterns in various sizes. Some were stacked up in the shapes of buildings or a pyramid, others were just in lines and rows, connecting the whole thing. One was even constructed in the likeness of a coliseum.

The boy then reached for the last domino and flicked it down, not even bothering to watch his latest creation collapse. He grabbed his bag and left via the south exit to the hallway to get to class. However, there was a second door in that room. It was connected to the school guidance counselor/vice principle's room.

From the open doorway, two women watched him go and the dominoes topple.  
"How long did this one take?" Raven asked. The VP herself, Glynda Goodwitch, answered, "Four days." Raven nodded. "Pretty impressive. How long did you say he's been coming in here?"

"Since halfway through his freshman year, so since about two and a half years ago. Every day at lunch. I've asked some of the other faculty and they barely knew he existed, even his own teachers."

"Does he just leave this mess here?"

"No. On Fridays Mr. Arc cleans up and stores them himself, even tidies up any other junk left out. I tried talking to him, but he's barely spoke a word. To anyone, unless he has to."

"You think he's, you know, on the spectrum?"

"Definitely not. He'd be registered in one of the programs, or at least be in one of the sheltered classes." Glynda made her way back to her desk and typed into the computer. "His grades are astonishing. He scored within the top ten national percentiles on the practice ACT's and the SAT's. By all academic accounts, he's a genius."

"A genius who never talks and plays with dominoes in high school? He's either a complete introvert or a sociopath." Raven stated. Glynda shook her head, "I've been trying to do some digging, but the boy's a ghost. No social media, just an email given by the school district for classes, not even a listed phone number."

"Damn. Should we be worried he might..." Raven mimed cocking a gun and spraying bullets around the room. Glynda shook her head again. "No, no. Don't be ridiculous. Let's just move on for now. You're needed to cover for Professor Peach in AP Humanities for maybe a month. She's out with mono and who knows when she'll recover. Here's the materials you'll need to cover for the week. I'll call and have someone bring you the rest later." Raven took the stack of papers Glynda gave her. The substitute would have to figure out how to teach an English and History class rolled into one on her own.

* * *

Jaune sat in his chair as the last bell before class started. Every other faceless person in this class talked amongst themselves while they waited for Prof. Peach to come in. To their moderate surprise, a woman with long black hair and red eyes walked in. She wore a red and black blouse with dark jeans.

"Good afternoon, I'm your substitute teacher, Mrs. Branwen. I'm afraid Professor Peach is out sick for a while with a case of mono, so I'll be taking over. She's given me all the information to carry on with your class's unit." She started writing on the whiteboard and most of the students quieted down and payed attention.

"Abstractions. These things have been around since the dawn of human existence. Whether it's death, time, emotions, art, freedom, control, any of these are just ideas thought up by people. It'll be your job to write about or illustrate three of these from a list I'll be handing out to you. It can be in the form of a short research paper, draw a picture, poems, personified letters, et cetera. You have until Friday to complete the assignment."

A cacophony of groans followed her introduction. Then she added, "Don't whine just yet. You've all got a week to do it and it's your only homework 'til next Monday."

Once she passed out instructions for the assignment, she started actually teaching. They read some more from _The Great Gatsby_ and then worked on a sheet about the motifs and symbols in the book. The school day passed by in a blur like every other school day.

Jaune rode his bike home, riding in the middle of the street. He made it home in twenty five minutes. Once he made it home, he made it up to his room. His mother wouldn't be home form work for another hour, so he decided to go for a run.

* * *

The next day, Raven and Glynda had lunch together in one of the teacher's lounges. "So, that Jaune kid is in the humanities class I'm covering for Peach." Raven took another bite of her sandwich. Glynda looked up from her book, "What was he like?"

"Honestly? He looked completely apathetic. He didn't pay any attention between lessons, did his work with no problem and left without talking to anyone. It was like he wasn't even there!"

Glynda set the book down and leaned back, "You never saw anyone talk to him?"

"Nada."

"Hm. Keep an eye on him, but don't treat him differently than any other student."

"Right. You think he should talk to you or one of the other counselors?"

The blonde woman shrugged, "It's too early to do anything. So, how's Yang doing? I imagine she's thrilled to have her mother teaching not one, but now _two_ classes this quarter."

"Yeah, she's ecstatic. She and her friends should be in the quad where they usually hang out. Am I right to assume Arc's in the room next to your's?"

She hummed in confirmation. "I've thought about contacting his parents."

"You sure that's the best decision?"

"I honestly don't know." Glynda replied before closing the book in her hands. Right as she stood up, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. "How do you do that?" Raven asked the blonde.

* * *

 **So, first story for the... collection of stories? Whatever. I'll be uploading a few of these until I finish the next chapters for my other published works.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	2. 2: Rags to Monster

**Rags to Monster**

 **Summary: Jaune's entire town was wiped form the face of Remnant after a Grimm attack. He was saved only by a secret his father's family had kept sacred for hundreds of years. But the monsters aren't the only ones to blame. He spends years bringing those responsible to justice when he gets caught in the middle of a street fight in Vale and a train robbery. What happens next is something he couldn't've dreamed about.**

 **Based off the DC Comics superhero, Ragman, and the TV series Arrow.**

* * *

Jaune was confused by his father's panic. The man that was his hero was gunning it in their old pickup toward their home town of Haven Rock. Whenever the twelve year old tried to ask what was wrong, his father just told him not to worry and let him focus on the road.

Obeying his father's wishes, his eyes scanned the flyers in the back of the passenger seat that advertised the Arc family's armor shop, one of the best in Northern Vale. He turned his attention to the canvas duffel bag his father had taken him out into the surrounding foothills to dig up. The boy rubbed at the blisters on his hands from using the wooden shovel for an hour.

The truck radio played music before an alert about a Grimm attack interrupted. Jaune's father switched it off quickly.

The trucks brakes screeched as the car halted in front of their shop. His father got out, grabbed Jaune, despite being big for his age, and the bag and hurried inside. The man called out for Jaune's mother and seven sisters when a thunderous boom shook the foundation of the shop.

His father rushed to the window and turned white as a ghost. He spun around and his gaze swiveled from Jaune to the bag and back.

The retired huntsman knew what had to be done. He didn't know if he could save his wife and daughters but he was sure about this. He opened the dirty bag and took out a pile of old, brown rags. Even as he carried them, they let down a trail of dust.

"Jaune, you need to trust me with what I'm about to do." He kneeled in front of his son. "These rags hold a special power, one that my family has protected and kept secret for generations. But the power and the rags need to be respected. I'm sorry I didn't have time to teach you more about them. I love you, son." He wrapped the cloth around the boys body like a blanket and embraced him.

"D-dad? What are you talking about? Dad!" Jaune pleaded for answers, but his father had shut his eyes and just muttered incoherently. _"Lozn di nshmus fun di gefaln haltn di gardyan fun dem shtof zikher fun beyz."_

The next thing Jaune knew, he was completely enveloped in the cloth as a blast wave knocked down the building around he and his father and he felt blinding heat surround him before there was just nothing.

* * *

When he woke up, he flailed around under the old musty cloths. He threw them off and nearly went blind after not seeing the sun for so long. He blinked and squinted before getting reoriented. The first thing he saw were what was left of his father's skeleton, the bone seared and blackened, all the skin melted off into ash. He stared in shock and horror before he got up. He looked around.

The whole town was just a blackened mess, charred bits of building still stood, twisted frames of cars remained where the streets were. He ran to the puddle of rubber and steel that was the company car. He kept running. This couldn't be all that's left. His sisters, his mother, his neighbors. His home.

That's when he saw the first grimm. Two Beowolves fought over a charred human arm. However, their quarrel ceased when they picked up the scent of live prey. One of them licked around its maw and crawled towards the boy.

Jaune could see the blood on its face from scavenging through the remaining bodies. The second grimm tried to flank him when something snapped inside of Jaune.

These beasts were just picking through the ruins of his home like vultures, defiling this now hallowed ground. They deserved to be wiped off the face of the planet, to be torn apart as they did to countless numbers of people. His father, his grandfather and many before them had fought to protect against these monsters. If he couldn't protect his family, he'd at least defend their final resting place.

He felt something move through him... some kind of power. It was like it wanted him to kill these things. He raised his arms and saw that he still had the rags on him. His father's last words told him that they held some sort of power.

The first Beowolf ran at him on all fours. The rags seemed to tighten, like a self-fitting suit, and the strips of cloth coiled around his arms.

The boy decided to experiment and thrust his arms forward. The cloth extended like tentacles and wrapped themselves around the beowolf's body. they tangled around its arms and legs before Jaune moved his arms away from each other. The rags mirrored his actions and split the creature at the waist. Black smoke rose from its corpse as Jaune threw it away like trash.

The second one pounce from his right, so he thrust his arm straight at it. The rags twisted into a braided rope and impaled it through the chest. They then wrapped around it completely and squeezed, small whimpers and growls escaped its throat.

He dropped what was left of the monster. He sunk to his knees and collapsed. That took a lot out of him. He'd have to figure out how to use these things. In the mean time, he had some things he needed to do.

* * *

By the end of the day, Jaune had piled up nine sets of white stone in the remnants of his family's home/business. After crying himself to sleep and a morning of more crying, he got up and searched through the rubble until he found the basement. It was accessible through a cellar door reinforced with earth Dust. He was fairly certain there was some kind mixed into the rags, too.

He pried the door open and stepped down the metal stairs. The boy steeled himself as memories of working down here flooded in. But down here was also stored food, prototype weapons and armor, all the things a huntsman would need. and also a computer he could use to find out what caused the explosion.

The brick walls seemed untouched, so did the other stuff. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he tore through two can of pork and beans.

After that, he rummaged through the equipment and found himself a nice set of light armor. It was made up of black hooded robes with various leather straps and belts around it for holding supplies. He liked it. Almost at once, the rags around him shifted and warped around his body, making hims stumble before it stopped.

He walked over to a mirror and found that the old cloth now mirrored the armor he liked, the hood was even up to mask his face in shadow. However, there was also an actual mask that wound loosely around his face like a mummy, leaving just eye holes. He looked down at his hand as he moved it around. The strips of rag moved like snakes around his arm in arcs before he thrusted his hand out again, causing it to hit the mirror with enough force to shatter it.

" _Oops._ " He clutched his throat. His voice sounded... displaced, like he was a ghost. It was all echo-y and whispered. It sounded kind of scary. He kind of liked it.

Regardless of how cool it looked, he couldn't stay in it forever. As if obeying his thoughts, the rags opened and moved away from his body, falling to the floor. Jaune quickly picked it up and hung it on a bare mannequin. Now, he was left in jeans, an undershirt and black hoodie. They were fairly dirty, but two days in ancient rags didn't really bother him much. He went to sit down at one of the desks and booted up the dated computer terminal.

He looked up his own home town, and found a variety of news articles and video clips about the... incident.

He clicked on one from VNN and it loaded to a video.

 _"Imaging from the military's latest drone cameras show the devastation after the V8 Dust missile was launched from the Atlesian battleship, the S.S. Oprah. When initial distress calls were sent out, any Valean military unit was too far out to reach the small town of Haven Rock. Luckily, a detachment of the Atlesian fleet was en route to Vale when they picked up the signals. The Oprah used its onboard surveillance equipment and, unfortunately, picked up zero survivors. The high concentration of Grimm prompted the ship's crew to eradicate the group of creatures in the most efficient way possible. Both Valean and Atlesian militaries have declared Haven Rock and the area surrounding to be a black zone, permitting zero civilian or military activity in case of more Grimm. The KM08 is the latest prototype in their arsenal and, with the aid of the SDC, is showing promising results in-"_

Jaune lashed out in fury and swiped the computer of the table.

Zero Survivors!

There were definitely survivors in Haven Rock before the Atlesian Military blew it to bits! They killed his father, and the rest of his family if they weren't already dead.

He was about to hit something else when he heard voices from the surface. He ran to the cellar door and pushed it open a smidge. Through the crack, I saw a group of people in makeshift, metal and leather armor that would give his father a conniption. Probably bandits. A detached town like Haven Rock was a likely target for such bandits, but Jaune's dad and other huntsman that retired here usually handled them.

Jaune went back and grabbed his new... rag suit? Whatever. He summoned it and made sure everything fit properly before slipping out the cellar door. Jaune managed to figure out maneuvering in the suit by sticking to the shadows.

After a bit of recon, he counted seven bandits. He wouldn't let them scavenge through his town like the Grimm did. He'd tear them apart first. Anger surged through him as he reached out and grabbed the first one, a guy with some kind of axe and shield, and tossed him into the side of a building.

He heard gunfire behind him and turned to see a tornado of cloth strips from his suit move around, blocking the bullets. They whipped around in a frenzy until the gunman ran out of ammo. Jaune lashed his rags out and grabbed him by the legs. He picked him up and repeatedly slammed him into the ground before dragging him along the asphalt. When the man stopped screaming, he tossed the body aside and went to look for the rest of them.

As he passed the gunman's body, he heard a radio go off. "Franky? What was a that shooting? You find any Grimm?" Jaune picked up the walkie-talkie. " _Franky's not here right now_."

He dropped the radio and stomped it to pieces before he ran into an alleyway. He decided to try something and thrust his arms towards a second floor window. The rags grasped the ledge and pulled him upwards.

He grabbed the window frame with his hands and pulled himself into what was left of the house. A noise from downstairs made him freeze. He heard footsteps come to the stairwell. He quickly vaulted over the charred banister and landed in a crouch behind a female bandit with two swords.

" _Shalom_ _._ " He picked her up and threw her through the shattered living room window. He stepped through the window frame and thought of another idea. He gathered a larger amount of cloth into his hand and started picturing a weapon in his mind. His father's sickle sword came to mind. It had a ten inch handle with coiled leather wrapped around it. It had a golden, ovular guard and a silver, curved blade with a hook on the end.

When he opened his eyes, a perfect replica of the weapon was in his hands, however, it was made of rags and lighter. He touched the blade and hissed in pain when he cut himself. That was a new thing.

He gave it a few practice swings before he remembered the bandits. Speaking of, his last opponent had disappeared. Jaune let out a ghostly sigh. He roped himself up to the top of another tall building and took a look around. He saw a two groups of three bandits, both heading towards the town square.

He looked around the structure and picked up a large slab of concrete and tossed it down toward one. It exploded on impact, sending shrapnel and bits of cement everywhere. The boy swung across the concrete and steel jungle that was once his town. At the edge of the square, he saw that the cement slab had crushed one raider and sent shrapnel tearing through the other two. Five down, four to go.

Jaune spun on his heal to see the last trio. One had a revolver, one some kind of shotgun, the last had a large war hammer. The two with ranged weapons fired while the hammer guy tried to flank him. This seemed familiar.

The rags whipped out and shielded him from the bullets again. Jaune calmly walked forward and thrust his arm towards Hammer Guy. The cloth wrapped around his waist and Jaune held him in front of himself to use as a meat shield. He threw the body at the bandits, they both rolled out of the way in time, though. The boy ran forward and vaulted over a fallen statue before grabbing the man with the pistol and threw him into the other guy.

Satisfied that his job was done, he dusted off his hands and went back to his house before remembering the woman with the swords. Great, now he gets to play cat and mouse.

He swung from building to building like Tarzan and hunted down the woman when an idea struck him. She was the last one. If she gets away, she'd be too scared to come back. maybe she'd even spread the word about what happens when you try to defile this graveyard. He chucked bitterly. It sure beat cat and mouse.

Jaune went to Haven Rock's gateway, where a once giant, dust-reinforced door kept the Grimm out, along with the walls. Most of the walls stood at half their original height. The rest of them were burned or blown off or knocked over by Grimm.

He grabbed another slab of concrete and moved it to the middle of the entrance. Next, Jaune formed a chisel and hammer from the rags and inscribed a message for anyone who was dumb enough to come around here again.

* * *

 **Alright, seconde installment. I've written a few more chapters for this story, so we'll see how things go.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	3. 3: SECURE, CONTAIN, PROTECT

**S.C.P.: Secure, Contain, Protect**

 **Item #:** SCP-082

 **Object Class:** Euclid

 **Special Containment Procedures:** Enlarged living quarters located at Armed Bio-Containment Area- **[REDACTED]** have been appropriated for the suppression and appeasement of SCP-082. While standard weapons have little effect in policing SCP-082, cooperation is easily attained through a charade; subject is currently under the impression that it has been made the King of France and that its containment area is actually a grand palace designed for its protection. All interacting personnel are to be made aware of this charade and are ordered to follow the ruse. Housekeeping personnel are to be Class D personnel only.

Guards tasked with the containment of SCP-082 are to be given Level-2 clearance, but are instructed to refrain from interacting directly with SCP-082.

 **Description:** SCP-082 is genetically human; however, through some process (either chemical, hormonal, cancerous, or supernatural), SCP-082 has grown to giant proportions. Approximately 2.4 meters tall (around 8 ft) and weighing over 310 kg (about 700 lb), SCP-082's physical characteristics are grossly disproportional. It has a slightly pointed balding head, a large rounded chin and jaw, a bulbous nose, and dark sunken eyes. Subject is both overweight and possesses a great amount of muscle mass. Forearms are muscular and dangerous, with a circumference of about 71 cm (about 28 in). The breadth of the subject's fist is nearly 30 cm along the knuckles (almost 12 in). Though feet are large, they are small in proportion to subject's body (men's size 14 US). Subject's skin is tanned dark and overall physical appearance is compounded by numerous scars (the results of years of attempts at suppression and containment). Most X-rays have been difficult to interpret because of the high density of its muscle tissue, but scans have revealed countless bullets and even several knife and sword blades lodged in SCP-082's flesh.

SCP-082 refers to itself as Ferdinand and speaks fluent French and heavily accented English. When it speaks, it does so through enormous, clenched teeth. SCP-082 only parts teeth to eat food and to sing. Subject will sing songs of its own pleasing, ranging from forgotten Victorian Era bar songs to modern classical, typically while cooking and eating. SCP-082 does not comb the hair on the sides of its head, but does cut it, and shaves with a large butcher knife originally provided for food preparation. It should be noted that even facial hair is exaggerated, a single strand being as thick as a millimeter (similar in thickness and appearance to graphite of a mechanical pencil). Occasionally, SCP-082 will clench its teeth so hard that the gums bleed, but it is not known why. This is considered normal.

The demeanor of SCP-082 is very amicable and carefree. SCP-082 has accrued a wide wardrobe over its time of incarceration, and it enjoys dressing up in many different fashions, including formal wear, military uniform, as a clown, and in women's clothing. New pieces should be made available upon request. Subject often attempts to joke and is usually polite to personnel, often inviting them to dinner. However, visiting personnel should be aware that at any moment, SCP-082 is capable of attacking and voraciously eating others. Subject will often apologize for its lack of manners for interrupting someone's conversation by devouring their head while making a mess of his quarters. SCP-082's jaws are strong enough to crack bone, and it seems to enjoy skulls. Attacks are seemingly at random with no motivation—whether or not subject has recently eaten has no effect on this cannibalistic hunger.

SCP-082 is incapable of differentiating fact from fiction when he reads it or watches television/films. On several occasions, SCP-082 has expressed a great desire to meet his favorite person, Hannibal Lecter, and subject will believe that all television programming is some form of reality television. Though subject has shown heightened intelligence in the form of memory and puzzle-solving, the concepts of parody, satire, and fiction are beyond its understanding. SCP-082 apparently understands the concept of lying, has shown to know when others are blatantly lying, and generally tells obvious falsehoods when asked about its past. According to SCP-082, he is:

A vampire

A homunculus

Big Bird

Andre the Giant

Napoleon

Obelix (sidekick of Asterix)

Dr. Bright

The Hulk

Alexander The Great

Captain Hook

Sherlock Holmes

Dr. Frankenstein

Frankenstein's Monster

When questioned about these lies he gives the excuse, "But I only lie when it's through my teeth!"

* * *

The man, in his early-mid twenties, had green eyes and dark brown hair. He wore an orange jumpsuit, like one might wear in a prison. He clenched a paper in his hands, standing by one of two reinforced doors in a kind of waiting room.

"Walk in, ask questions, get out. Walk in, ask questions, get out." He muttered to himself.

"Mr. Pine."

"Jesus!" The man jumped as the intercom went off and dropped the papers. He grabbed them and paid close attention to the voice coming from the small box.

"Remember to speak clearly and precisely to the subject. This one can be a bit... difficult to talk to." It said.

"Okay." He answered. The door he was closest to opened as a short siren sounded off. The room he stepped into was relatively large for a holding cell. The beige walls towered at least thirty feet high. He saw the one-way glass window at the top of one wall, just above the large number 82. On the far side of the room, the subject sat, humming along to classical music.

 **Queue: Brahm's Hungarian Dance**

There were a couple large, victorian chairs and a matching coffee table as the behemoth sat on the floor next to the record player. The subject, or Mr. Ferdinand, had on some sort of leather tunic with ragged pants and no shoes, having multiple scars along his body and three arrow shafts protruding from his back.

"Excuse m _eee_ ," The man in the jumpsuit cleared his throat to try and shake the voice crack, "Uh, excuse me, Mr. Ferdinand?"

The eight-foot tall cannibal turned and stood on his relatively small legs. Meanwhile, his elephant leg-like arms supported most of his weight as he leaned on them and looked the smaller man over with blank, milky white eyes. It spoke through large, crooked teeth, "Hm? Well I beg your pardon. I didn't smell you in here. Quite unusual of me, I have to say." His fat cheeks drooped and flapped as he talked, kind of like a beagle dog's.

"Well, do take a seat. I'll fetch us some tea." He said.

"Uh, alright." The young man replied hesitantly.

"I was just speaking to the Duke of the Highland about a wonderful new horse of the Dutchess. The resemblance is uncanny! I trust you to not speak a word of this to either of them on the way out. Her demeanor is as hairy as her upper lip! I'd heard that the Duke's uncle passed away in a terrible swan attack. Tragic, really, he was relentless at badminton."

He looked back at the man from behind a curtain where he cooked and asked, "Tell me, do you partake in the thwacking of the shuttlecock yourself?"

"Actually, I'm just here to ask you some questions." Mr. Pine answered with a shrug as he held up the paper.

Ferdinand waited a moment before replying, "Ah. Well of course you are. Why else would you be here?"

"Exactly!" Pine said, glad that he seemed to be getting back on track, "So, question one-"

"It's all you fleshy homunculi do these days, eh? Walking into my bloody room and asking me bloody questions. Not to sit or have tea or play an honest day's game of badminton!" The hulking subject moved closer to Pine until he stood over him, causing the smaller of the two to unconsciously lean back a bit.

"No, no, no. We're all above _that_! We're all too busy for badminton!" The creature ranted.

"What the fuck is badminton?!" Pine yelled, his voice rising an octave out of fear. This sent Ferdinand reeling backwards before turning and falling to his knees, deep sobs echoing throughout the room.

"Um, Mr.-"

"Although, I can not blame you for wanting to avoid this room." Ferdinand turned back to Pine and scooted closer on his knees so their heads were almost level. "Not a single man has walked into this cell without losing his head, did you know that?" The cannibal asked.

"Uh, w-what do you mean by-" Pine was cut off as the behemoth's mouth unhinged and closed around his entire head, the jaws strong enough to cut straight through Pine's neck and spinal cord. Mr. Ferdinand held the smaller man in his jowls and shook him vehemently like a dog with a chew toy before throwing the headless corpse against the wall. Just as he did so, the victorian music ended and the room was silent. Ferdinand went back over to the record player as Pine's corpse lay there under the blood spatter that dyed the wall.

A few moments later, There was a small flash of light before Ozcar Pine reentered existence, his new body completely unharmed. he winced and rubbed his forehead before glaring at the cannibal. "Asshole!" He yelled, causing Mr. Ferdinand to turn around.

Ozcar kneeled down next to his own corpse and picked up the papers, his old body having kept them in a vice-like grip during rigamortis. he grimaced as eh shook some of his own blood off it and stood back up.

"I say... You're not an average chap like the rest of them, are you?" The cannibal asked.

"Not...technically, no." Ozcar answered hesitantly.

"You're an abnormality! An S.C.P. like us! You belong right here with us." Ferdinand declared.

"Whoa, no no no no. No! I am not one of _you_. I'm not a human atom bomb, I'm not a rapidly evolving virus and I'm not some Shakespearean cannibal! I work for the _Foundation_." He defended, crossing his arms.

Mr. Ferdinand stalked back over to Ozcar. "I've no doubt in my mind of your incredibly feeble and fragile nature, but are you allowed to leave anytime you wish? Hmmm?"

Ozcar sighed, "Dude, you've asked like five questions and I haven't asked one. Can you-"

"Aubaubaubaubab, just one more." Ferdinand assured before an arm the size of a tree trunk and sending Ozcar into the far wall again, his head absorbing the blow and folding inward like a can of soda pop. Once he "respawned", as he had dubbed his... skill, the cannibal asked, "Did that hurt?"

"Yes! That hurts! Stop it!" Ozcar yelled. The behemoth responded by jumping at the man with surprising speed and crushing his body beneath one arm, then throwing Ozcar's next regenerated body toward the other wall. He squashed, threw, ate, tore apart and swung the man around until he'd died seventeen times, leaving that number of bloodied corpses littering the holding cell. He let out a hearty laugh as he mangled the poor man and the scientists in the observation box murmured to themselves. "We're getting nowhere. Stop the test."

A small hatch beside the window opened up and a turret popped out, coughing out a tranquilizer dart that hit Ferdinand's shoulder and knocked him out instantly.

Ozcar crawled out from beneath the creature and looked around before noting, "Wow. It even got on the lamp!"

"Mr. Pine, please exit the containment cell." The alarm sounded and the cell door opened.

"Well, I'm out. I don't wanna be here when these bodies start voiding their bowels. Fuck you, Mr. Ferdinand." He said to the sleeping giant before running out. The doors closed and the giant was left laying there as a mangled hand fell from one of the overhanging lamps onto his face.

* * *

 **Room** **[REDACTED]**

Ozcar entered his cell to see his roommates: Jaune, who was floating up against the ceiling, and Ren, who sat on his bed while stroking a small cactus in a ceramic pot. Many of the same type of pot, though empty, lay scattered around his corner of the room. There was also their dog, Stena, who was half-phased into the wall. The tan husky had been there since before they were and never ate or drank. Just stayed there with his front legs dangling in front of him. He barked at the young man as he walked over to his bed and sat down.

His own corner of their humble abode was decorated with a small nightstand and a few posters of the beach, the city and the countryside.

"Hey." He greeted the others.

"Hey man." Jaune said as his back pressed against the ceiling and his feet kicked forward and back. Ren asked, "How'd the test go?"

"Not great, but still better than the black hole demon." Ozcar replied as he fluffed his pillow.

"Meh, he's still better than the guy who eats memories. Mind tricks are the worst." Jaune said.

Ren: "Wait, there's a guy that eats memories?"

Jaune: "There is?"

"I'm gonna hit the hay a little early tonight, guys." Ozcar told them.

"Alright."

"Cool."

The young man laid down, but was unable to sleep. "Hey guys? We're not freaks, are we?" He asked.

"What?" Jaune asked.

Ozcar didn't respond and just laid there, thinking.

 **Outro: Theme song to the Partridge Family**

* * *

 **This was inspired by the SCP stories and by the Youtube series Confinement by Lord Bung. The guy's a super talented animator and artist and you should check him out if you're into that stuff!**

 **Thanks for reading and review!**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	4. Rags to Monster Part 2

**Rags to Monster (Part 2)**

 **Summary: Jaune's entire town was wiped form the face of Remnant after a Grimm attack. He was saved only by a secret his father's family had kept sacred for hundreds of years. But the monsters aren't the only ones to blame. He spends years bringing those responsible to justice when he gets caught in the middle of a street fight in Vale and a train robbery. What happens next is something he couldn't've dreamed about.**

 **Based off the DC Comics superhero, Ragman, and the TV series Arrow.**

* * *

Five years went by since the day my home town and everyone I ever cared about was destroyed. The rags are what saved me. And they saved me time and time again. In those fiver years I've trained to keep my family's resting place safe and to bring vengeance to the people who destroyed it. I'd been around the kingdoms and tracked down the people behind Project Genesis.

The KM08 missile that leveled Haven Rock was just the tip of the iceberg. The SDC had set up deals with the Atlesian military to supply enough dust to fill ranged weaponry that could wipe out large areas, under the guise of a large-scale Grimm clean up operation. The top dogs of the project, Atlesian Generals Mac and Arthur, Commander Ironwood, Captain Hower, Doctors Watts and Karich, Jacques Schnee, Eis Wulffe. These men started Genesis and ended it a year later. I'd taken care of several in the last couple years. All of them dead and in the judgement of God.

I was in my home, which was just my family's basement, now. I'd expanded it with the help of the internet. My updated computer set up had let me find info on basic carpentry and remodeling. The rags helped me dig out the dirt, then I laid down wood floors and cemented the walls. I now had around two thousand square feet.

My house/bunker consisted of the cellar, with a hallway leading away from it under where the garage was. Three rooms were attached on each side of the hallway. One was my bedroom, another my bathroom, one was extra storage, one was a training room, the other had my computer stuff, and the last was an armory. I used the cellar mainly as my workshop for designing weapons and armor. I still needed to make money somehow.

Whenever people tried to set foot, loot or try to settle on the grounds of Haven Rock, I chased them out, killed them, or just tossed them away like rag dolls. Seemed to work so far.

My food source here mainly consisted of animals I hunted and some scarce vegetables I grew in the remnants of a greenhouse.

Haven Rock was littered with weapons of those who didn't heed my numerous warnings. Bandits, settlers, looters, even Huntsman. All were chased away or killed by the Ragman (I didn't pick the name).

It seemed that the world finally got the message, so now all I had to deal with here was the occasional Grimm. Speaking of which, the proximity alarms I'd hidden around the city went off at the western breach.

Probably a wondering Ursa that came to pick at the ruins. If it stayed away from my house, I'd let it come and go. If it stayed too long...

Anyway, I was working on my weapons for my next trip to Vale. I'd caught wind that Eis Wulffe was staying in Vale to open some new charity building. The rags were great, but sometimes I needed to be more... shooty.

As far as sidearms went, I preferred my father's Jericho 941. I also had a variety of small arms like my dual Uzi Submachine Guns, SP-21 Barak pistol, IWI X95 Bullpup Rifle, Tavor TAR-21 Assault Rifle, Galil ACE Assault Rifle, Negev Light Machine Gun, Galatz Designated Marksman Rifle, the list went on and on. All of these were designed and manufactured in my ancestral homeland: Israel, an area of the Vacuoan desert that had been invaded and retaken several times throughout history.

After the Great War, it had been made its own City-State. It was the holy land. The jewish people made pilgrimages from all around the world each year. I'd never been, though. Good intentions or not, I was still a killer. I'll go there when I search for forgiveness from God.

I was currently dressed in a black hoodie with yellow lightning bolts wrapped around the torso diagonally. I had on blue jeans and a thigh holster for the Jericho, along with black and silver combat boots. I used a brown leather satchel to hold pistol ammo, a silencer, other attachments, and the Rags.

Over the last half-decade, I'd trained myself to manipulate the ancient cloth into shapes, weapons, armors. My father had kept oodles of literature on them. They were from the _Devarim_ Era. _Devarim_ is Hebrew for Deuteronomy, the last book in the Torah, meaning that these rags were almost two thousand years old. That's a lot of generations to protect these things. I'd spent most of my days reading, training, killing, learning Hebrew, studying krav maga.

Now, I was off to spend almost a week walking to the closest Airship dock to take me into Vale. I got my backpack and the case containing my DMR and a Micro-Uzi and exited the cellar. Once into the light, I went over to the mounds of stone and kneeled down before praying.

 _"B'ʻal'ma d'hu ʻatid l'ithaddata_

 _ulʼaḥaya metaya_

 _ulʼassaqa yathon l'ḥayye ʻal'ma_

 _ul'mivne qarta dirush'lem_

 _ulmeʻqar pulḥana nukhraʼa m'arʻa_

 _v'laʼatava pulḥana dishmayya l'ʼatreh_

 _v'yamlikh qudsha b'rikh hu_

 _b'malkhuteh viqareh."_

Tanslation:

 _In the world which will be renewed_

 _and where He will give life to the dead_

 _and raise them to eternal life_

 _and rebuild the city of Jerusalem_

 _and complete His temple here_

 _and uproot foreign worship from the earth_

 _and restore Heavenly worship to its position_

 _and may the Holy One, blessed is He,_

 _reign in His sovereign splendor._

* * *

After a week of walking, killing Grimm, killing a few bandits, and taking motion sickness medicine, I lounged on one of the cushioned benches that lined the Airship's hull.

After three hours of dozing off, I sat back up. I took out my headphones and slipped them on while scrolling through my, well, scroll. I picked a song by Jeff Williams just as the ship landed. It was time to kill a Wulffe.

I headed to the customs booth and showed my passport. The attendant didn't even look up as he stamped it. "Name?"

"Jaune Gauld." As it turns out, my father had taken my mother's name in marriage, maybe to protect the whole family secret thing. Either way, I used it now. Seemed right since I kept the Rags safe.

The man gave me my passport and I exited the airport, finding a small coffee shop to rest at. I ordered a egg and turkey bacon sandwich and took a corner booth to sit in. Pulling out my laptop. I'd hacked into the SDC's executive mail listings and found Eis Wulffe's. His emails confirmed that he'd be staying at the Fün Haus Hotel downtown. The company had booked him a lovely suite on the top floor with a furbished balcony containing reclining chairs, a small coffee table, a hot tub, and adequate space to land on if I jumped from the roof of the building across the street.

First word: Cake,

Second word: Walk.

* * *

That night, I was dressed in black on the roof of the building across from Fün Haus. I set the Galatz on its bipod on the roof's ledge and looked through the thermal scope. It picked up four guards in the suite. I took out one on the balcony and put the Galatz back in its case. I loaded the Jericho and screwed on the silencer.

I then opened the satchel and flicked my arms back. The Rags immediately swirled around my body and took form of the hooded suit and mask. I then took a few steps back and ran to the building's edge. I jumped as far as I could, making it about ten feet before I started to fall. I thrust my arms out at the balcony and pulled myself up with the rags. Once safe on the floor, I dragged the guard's body behind the hot tub and went inside.

Once I navigated the suite and incapacitated three more guards, I made my way to the bedroom. This guy was a real piece of work. Prostitutes, drugs, underage prostitutes, money laundering, bribery. Top that all off with accessory to murder of my whole town and you've got one dead bastard.

No point in dilly-dallying anymore. I kicked open the double doors to see the man himself... with two very young hookers. They couldn't be a day over fifteen. When I opened the door, they stopped their fooling around and looked at me in shock. " _Get out._ " I hissed at them. They were still frozen.

" _GET OUT!"_

That got them moving. They grabbed the little clothes they had and ran around me, giving me a wide birth. I turned back to Wulffe, who was frantically getting his pants back on. "Who the hell are you?!" He demanded. It was annoying when they asked questions. I took a step forward. He stumbled back and fell. _"Good evening, Mr. Wulffe. I'm here to bring your retribution."_

"What the hell are you talking about?" I thrust my arm out and the rags wrapped around his throat. I pushed him up against the wall.

 _"I'M TALKING ABOUT GENESIS!"_ I threw him against the other wall. _"THE KM08 MISSILE. YOUR COMPANY'S PRIDE AND JOY. OVER FIVE HUNDRED OF THEM MANUFACTURED AND ONLY ONE EVER FIRED. NONE OF IT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T SOLD THE MILITARY THOSE MISSILES!"_ The cloth strung him up by his arms and legs.

 _"THEY ALL DIED IN FIRE! YOUR FIRE FROM YOUR WEAPON."_ He tried to run for the phone on the desk, but I wrapped the Rags around his legs.

 _"How about we get some fresh air?"_ I dragged him through the suite back to the balcony and hung him by his ankles above the street, over twenty stories below. "Wait! Wait! Please! I can help you! I can give you names, all the people involved with the project, dates for executive meetings and events. Anything!"

I brought him closer to me. _"Anything?"_

* * *

 **Alright, here's part two of one of my favorite stories that I've written. I'm not sure when/if I'll post Rags to Monster as its own story, so don't get too excited.**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	5. 4: The Sound

**The Sound**

 **Summary: High School/College AU. Yang finds out about a secret her sister's been keeping while attending Beacon Academy. Why wasn't she told?**

* * *

 **5:00 pm**

"What do you think, sis?" Yang asked. Ruby was shaken from her thoughts and looked up at her sister, "Huh? What'd you say, Yang?"

"I asked if you wanted to head into town to go shopping with me, Weiss and Blake." She clarified. Ruby, never being the best liar, stuttered for a moment before answering, "O-oh, I think I have to pass. I've gotta study for Ooblek's history quiz on Wednesday."

"Oh come on, Rubes. This is, like, the fifth time you've flaked out on us. This _month_." The blonde complained. Ruby looked down at her book as she sat at her desk in the dorm room. Yang sighed, "Alright, but you've gotta come out of your shell some time. Even if your just a first-year." With that, she grabbed her coat and left, leaving the brunette to her thoughts. Until her phone buzzed. She looked at the text and smiled before replying: _B there in 15._

The seventeen year old grabbed her hoodie and left for another secretive outing.

* * *

"So, your sister still refuses to be social?" Weiss asked Yang as they drove to one of the boutiques they frequented. "Yeah. She used the old studying excuse again." Yang answered as she drove.

In the back seat, Blake looked up from her book, "You know, Yang, I don't want to insinuate anything, but this _is_ the fifth time Ruby's blown us off."

"Yeah, she's just kind of antisocial. She's been like that since we were little kids." The blonde answered.

"Alright, but have you noticed that whenever she does, it's after school and usually on weekends?"

"Yeah..." Yang's eyes narrowed.

"And she's a teenage girl. And when you were her age, you'd sneak out while your parents weren't home all the time?" Blake finished. Yang's friends could see the wheels in her head turning.

"No... Ruby's way to shy to do that. And where would she go...?" Yang trailed off. They stayed silent for a second before Weiss asked, "Wanna go find out?"

Before anyone could say anything, Yang swerved into the far left lane and pulled an illegal U-turn, heading back to Beacon Academy.

...

"How are we gonna find her?" Weiss asked. Yang handed the white-haired girl her phone. "A few years ago, Dad had GPS chips installed in our phones so he could find us in an emergency. Of course, I found out about mine and disabled it, but I can track Ruby from my phone. Just go to the app marked FindMe." She ordered.

Sensing the growing anger and confusion toward Ruby coming off Yang, Weiss didn't hesitate. "Well, the bad news is she's off school grounds, but the good news is that Blake and I have been to this place with Neptune and Sun."

Yang quickly looked at the address on the phone, then went back to driving. Then looked at it again.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Blake and Weiss shared a look before the ravenette asked, "Is she gonna say somethi-"

"A NIGHTCLUB!?"

"There it is."

Yang pressed harder on the accelerator. _Ruby Rose, you'd better have a good explanation for this web of lies you've spun!_ She thought.

* * *

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back a crowd favorite: Lucid Instinct!" The dimly lit club was flooded with the sounds of cheering a screaming from the crowd as five people stepped on stage. A girl in a purple hoodie and black shorts with green hair hopped up to the large drum set and took a seat before hitting each part of the instrument to tests the sound out. A black-haired boy with a ponytail, green jacket and grey pants stepped into view with a guitar while a shorter boy with shorter black hair and a white work shirt with black jeans and suspenders hanging off his belt took his spot at a keyboard. A blonde boy wearing a grey shirt, jeans, a denim jacket and dog tags stepped up to the center microphone and greeted the crowd. Finally, Ruby Rose, dressed in blue jeans, a black shirt and red hoodie got on stage with a second guitar, looking a bit nervous.

Her nerves would've frayed even more, had she noticed her sister and friends/roommates in the back, staring at the band in shock.

"This is... not what I expected." Weiss muttered.

"I didn't even know Ruby could play. Or that she had other friends." Blake said while looking at their blonde friend. Yang stayed silent and watched her sister and the others start playing an indie rock melody.

 **(Rollercoaster - Bleachers)**

 **It was summer when I saw your face**  
 **But like a teenage runaway**  
 **Oh god I never thought we'd take it that far**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

 **Now I'm running and I can't stop anywhere I go**  
 **I think about it everyday and night I can't let go**  
 **Man, I'm never the same**  
 **We were shotgun lovers, I was shotgun running away**

 **So come a little closer**  
 **There was something I could tell ya**  
 **You were such a rollercoaster**  
 **And a killer queen you are**

 **Rollercoaster, I don't say no**  
 **Rollercoaster, when you don't say no**  
 **And it's such a rollercoaster**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

 **We took the bones out from the road**  
 **Those endless nights that we traveled we stole**  
 **You let your clothes fall to the floor**  
 **And lit a fire while I waited for more**

 **Now I'm running and I won't stop, I don't wanna go**  
 **I think about it everyday and night, I can't let go**  
 **And hey, I'm never the same**  
 **It's a hundred miles an hour on a dirt road running away**

 **So come a little closer**  
 **There was something I could tell ya**  
 **You were such a rollercoaster**  
 **And a killer queen you are**

 **Rollercoaster, I don't say no**  
 **Rollercoaster, when you don't say no**  
 **And it's such a rollercoaster**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

 **Come a little closer**  
 **I'm sure, come a little closer**

 **Why don't you come a little closer**  
 **There was something I could tell ya**  
 **You were such a rollercoaster**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

 **Rollercoaster, I don't say no**  
 **Rollercoaster, when you don't say no**  
 **And it's such a rollercoaster**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

 **Rollercoaster, I don't say no**  
 **Rollercoaster, when you don't say no**  
 **And it's such a rollercoaster**  
 **Some killer queen you are**

The band finished to an uproar of applause before they switched up instruments, the blonde guy getting Ruby's guitar while the other guitarist walked off stage and handed the keyboardist a bass guitar.

Blondie thanked the crowd before asking, "How's about we kick it up a notch!" This only reenforced the audience's excitement. Adding to the three girls in the back's surprise, Ruby got the microphone, any anxiety having disappeared in the rush of performing, as the blonde began the next song.

 **(The Sound - CrazyEightyEight (The 1975 Cover))**

 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**

 **I can't believe I forgot your name**  
 **Oh baby won't you come again?**  
 **She said "I've got a problem with your shoes and your tunes**  
 **But I might move in"  
and ****"I thought that you were straight, now I'm wondering"**

 **You're so conceited,  
I ****Said "I love you"**  
 **What does it matter if I lie to you?**  
 **I don't regret it but I'm glad that we're through**  
 **So don't you tell me that you 'just don't get it'**  
 **'Cause I know you do**

 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**

 **It's not about reciprocation it's just all about me**  
 **A sycophantic, prophetic, Socratic junkie wannabe**  
 **There's so much skin to see**  
 **A simple Epicurean Philosophy**  
 **And you say I'm such a cliche**  
 **I can't see the difference in it either way**  
 **And we left things to protect my mental health**  
 **But you call me when you're bored and you're playing with yourself**

 **You're so conceited,  
I ****Said "I love you"**  
 **What does it matter if I lie to you?**  
 **I don't regret it but I'm glad that we're through**  
 **So don't you tell me that you 'just don't get it'**  
 **'Cause I know you do**

 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**

 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**  
 **Well I know when you're around 'cause I know the sound**  
 **I know the sound, of your heart**

The song faded out and was met with a cacophony of cheers. There also appeared to be a fight breaking out in the mosh pit that had developed. Weiss tugged on Yang's shirt sleeve, finally breaking her out of her trance. "What do you wanna do now?"

Yang felt conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to storm the stage and drag her little sister out of this place by her ears. On the other, she couldn't ignore the huge, genuine smile that had spread on Ruby's face as she and her band performed. It was the happiest she'd seen Ruby in months. _This is what you wanted, right? She's out of her shell._ The blonde girl thought. But why keep it a secret?

"Let's... go home now. We can ask her later." Yang declared. Blake and Weiss nodded, the ravenette putting her scroll away after taking several photos and videos on it as evidence.

* * *

 **So, another band/ modern school AU. I've kind of had a flood of band-themed ideas for RWBY that can't all be added to Jaune's Band, so I'll put some of them in here and see what you guys think.**

 **I know there isn't exactly a lot of meat in this story, but is in a one-shot(kinda) after all.**

 **Happy Labor Day!**

 **-Fireballmonkey**


	6. 5: Clear

**Summary: Jaune's family and town were destroyed by Grimm and bandits. Something broke inside him, causing him to go crazy. Morgan from The Walking Dead-level crazy. What happens when Qrow finds him?**

* * *

Qrow arrived at the remnants of Alexandria, a small town outside Vale. Two years ago it had been destroyed by Grimm. Several reports had been made by Huntsmen who had investigated the area. Apparently someone was sticking around, killing any bandit or investigator that tried to see scour the ruins.

The huntsman had been here a few times before it fell. One of the sheriffs had been a retired huntsman and friend from Beacon. Considering the state of the town, Qrow didn't think ol' Morgan Arc was still up and kicking.

Vines of ivy lazily clung to the old buildings and clumps of yellowed grass sprung through broken concrete and asphalt streets. Some of the structures were a bit weathered at the edge of Alexandria, but seemed stable.

The huntsman was walking by a communal lodge when he smelled something burnt, decayed. He approached a brick archway that lead to a courtyard and saw a large pile of corpses, all burnt to blackened husks. There were several piles of tinder and old rags, along with a can or two of fuel. This wasn't his first mass grave, but it didn't alleviate any of the creepy vibes this place gave off. It was all so quiet. He hadn't encountered many Grimm in the area, and all he could here was the wind rustling the unkempt shrubbery and the whine of cicadas. He kept moving, and saw that on the outer wall of the courtyard, someone had written _AWAY WITH YOU_ in what might've been blood.

Along the cracked sidewalk, arrows marked in spray paint made him a path towards the center of town. As he walked, he could see more messages and blood stains scattered around the streets. Whoever was here meant business.

Some of the buildings were marked in some kind of code with letters and numbers. The police station was G1, a whole in the bar was G2, a grocery store was F1, a public swimming pool was W3, on and on.

There seemed to be a method to this madness. The G's could be referring to guns. Many bars kept some kind of firearm under the counter in case of robbery and the police station would have a fully stocked armory. The F, rather obviously, meant food while the W meant water. Crude but effective. The people here must have a map for getting around, scavenging what's left. Judging by the number of bodies in the courtyard, there could be a whole society moved in that was simply protecting their territory.

Qrow continued following the warnings and arrows, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword. He stopped when he reached main street. There were a few apartment buildings on the right side, then a parallel sidewalk, a small strip of grass separating it from the road.

On the left side was another apartment on the corner, with smaller two and one story buildings farther ahead. Qrow looked around, seeing on a large message written in yellow paint: _NO GUILT, YOU KNOW THAT_.

"Creative." He muttered as he looked at the street. It was littered with dozens of items. Tripwires, barricades, small animals in cages surrounded by large truck tires with wood stakes protruding from them in all directions. A wall of shopping carts made a bottleneck on Qrow's end, leading him along the yellow-black divider. There were also more messages, some written on sheets and banners hung up on old telephone wires and clotheslines.

 _JUST LISTEN._

 _GO AWAY._

 _TURN AROUND AND LIVE._

 _LAST CHANCE._

 _LEAVE._

 _CLEAR._

That last one seemed to be recurring around here. It was stenciled in chalk on the sidewalks and buildings, spray-painted on broken down cars, on posters and signposts. Just that one word.

Qrow maneuvered around the wires, debris, bird cages and barricades. Hand carved wooden stakes were impaled in just about everything; doors, fencing, tires, wood pallets, car seats. There was even a spike-filled bucket dangling from a lamp-post at face height. Qrow stopped midstep and looked down. The wire was thin, about as thin as dental floss, but shiny like metal. He kneeled down carefully and saw that the wire ran between two cans, each set behind a car tire on each side of the path. The wire was tied to a grenade inside the can, where the safety pin was missing, but the explosives were jammed in in such a way so that the striking levers were still in place.

That was a very dangerous trap to set up. Whoever was here really wanted others to stay away. He didn't risk messing with the grenades and stepped over the wire. Qrow decided to check out a bar down the street to look... supplies.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps, heavy and accompanied by the clacking of something solid against the asphalt.

The veteran huntsman spun around to see a lone Beowolf approach the street, sniffing the air with its glowing red eyes scanning the area until they landed on him. It let out a low growl, one that rumbled from deep in its chest and throat, and stalked toward Qrow on all fours. Qrow got Reaper out but waited to see if the Grimm would set off any traps.

The only thing it was able to hit was a string that was hanging and had a bunch of empty cans attached. They clanged together at the contact before a hole was put clean through the Beowolf's skull. The bullet hit the Grimm before the sound hit Qrow. A rifle, high-powered, probably from a roof of one of the buildings to his right.

Low and behold, a figure stood on the corner of the roof, a scoped SPR Model 1 in his hands. His build suggested male, maybe six feet tall. He had a SWAT-issue black riot helmet and gas mask on that covered the lower half of his face, along with some polarized goggles and an old wool scarf. He was wearing blue jeans, black boots and a brown shirt, with polymer shin and elbow pads strapped on, also police issue.

"Show me your hands!" He yelled as he aimed the rifle at Qrow's head. Qrow did as told, keeping Reper in his grip. The voice was muffled by the mask, sounded experienced, but relatively young.

"Now you drop what you've got and you go!" The man commanded, "Your weapon, your shoes, and any ammunition you have. All of it! You've got ten seconds!"

"Ten...Nine...Eight..."

Qrow thought quickly. One attacker in the open, but there could be more hiding. The rifle was probably semi automatic, but he had better range with it than Reaper and had serious high ground. The huntsman wasn't about to part with his stuff, so he slowly crept his fingers to the lever that activated the mechashifting function of his weapon.

"Six..."

The huntman's hands hit the lever and the blade turned with the gears on the cross-guard. When the barrel of the gun part was cleared, Qrow fired, making his opponent duck before returning fire. Qrow kept firing as he made his way behind a car. The space around him was limited. If he had enough room to run and jump, he could probably get to the top the building easily. Alas, the street was too cluttered and the 5.56 bullets whizzing over his head didn't help.

Reloading his gun-sword-scythe, Qrow stood and aimed, only to see his opponent missing form the rooftop. He scanned the roofs, but saw no sign of the man. Slowly, Qrow approached the building before the rifleman came around on the ground level, having switched his gun to full auto and laid down suppressing fire.

They exchanged bullets, neither gaining the upper hand when an opportunity presented itself. One of the grenade traps was under the car he'd taken cover behind.

Very carefully, Qrow removed the explosive and undid the tripwire, keeping his hand clamped over the striking lever. He waited for the rifleman to reload before lobbing the grenade to the man's right, causing him to move right and into the open. Qrow saw his chance and fired.

The slug hit him in the abdomen, punched through his clothing but hit something underneath. The force knocked the man onto his back. When he didn't get up, Qrow approached, keeping his sword at the rifleman's chest. He kicked the gun away from him and poked his torso.

Next he kneeled down and opened the man's shirt, seeing that he was indeed wearing body armor underneath. It stopped the bullet, but at the point of impact, under the kevlar and white undershirt, a large, ugly bruise started forming. Qrow's focus moved to the headgear, wanting to check for a pulse. He took another look around the street, but figured if no one showed up by now, this guy was alone.

Once he removed the helmet, mask and goggles, Qrow was greeted by an unexpected sight. His assailant was a boy, no older than Yang. He had unkempt blonde hair, his face marred by dirt and fatigue.

When Qrow was checking his injuries, he'd found several older scars covering the blonde's body. He saw at least three gunshot wounds, a slash from what might be an ursa's claw. There was an ugly burn mark on his back that matched one on his elbow, as if the blonde had fallen back into a fire and several cuts had made themselves known on his torso. Qrow looked around again. That little firefight would attract unwanted attention.

Having several question that would go unanswered should this boy be left on the street, Qrow put him on his shoulder and went to the building he'd come out of.

He went around to the apartment's front door, seeing that several more sets of spiked barricades and warnings had been set up. Though this time many of the sticks had knives tied to them. The creativity train keeps rolling. Qrow was only a few feel from the door when he stopped. Why have a welcome mat if you were keeping people away? The huntsman kneeled down and peeled the mat back, revealing that not only had the concrete been broken up, but a five foot whole had been dug and filled Punji sticks.

So, military level counter measures, weird messages written everywhere, at least one firearm, and he had apparently been alone here fro quite a while. Not only was this kid crazy, he was dangerous. He also looked familiar.

Qrow went over the Punji trap and opened the wooden door. Behind it there was a stairwell leading up to the first floor of apartments. Spray-painted along the wall was the phrase _LAST CHANCE_.

He stopped maybe two thirds up the steps when he spotted another trip wire. He adjusted the unconscious boy's weight and stepped over it.

At the top of the stairs, he saw that the hall was barricaded except for the room right across from the stairwell. The door was ripped of its hinges and had been taken Monty-knows-where. In its place were plastic curtains, the kind you'd find in a hospital. _NOT SHITTING YOU_ was written on the curtains. Qrow nudged one with his foot before going through. Rigged to the ceiling was a fire ax, the words _TOLD YOU_ inscribed on the handle in blood. Several chains hung down from the rig, jingling like sleigh bells.

What he saw in that apartment would be pretty hard to forget. The walls were covered in writing; inventory lists, maps of different parts of town, more messages, some were even carved into the drywall.

The complex had one large bedroom and a small foyer/kitchen. The bedroom was cleared out save for a cot in one corner. The shelves were stocked with canned food and water, there were several crates and containers filled with weapons of all variety. Most were guns but there were a few huntsmen's weapons. One military crate was filled with just grenades. Ammo boxes were stacked neatly in one corner with weapons leaned against the walls all around. Boxes of dust were there, too, along with smaller boxes of ammunition.

Qrow cursed under his breath and set the boy down on the bed, grabbing some plastic zip cuffs from a stack on a table and binding his hands.

The messages in here were different. That word, clear, was painted a lot more, even on the ceiling. There were also names. They looked random, scattered around the rest of the graffiti. But on the wall that the cot was up against, they were bigger, standing out against the others.

 _MORGAN ARC KILLED BY BERINGAL_

 _JUNE ARC DRAGGED AWAY BY BEOWOLVES_

 _ELLISE AND VERDE ARC BURNED_

 _BLEU ARC STARVED_

 _ROSE ARC EATEN BY URSA MAJOR_

 _CITRINE ARC NECK BROKEN BY ALPHA BEOWOLF_

 _BLANC ARC SHOT IN CHEST, BLED OUT_

 _VIOLET ARC CRUSHED_

So there they were. The Arc family's fate written on the walls of some psycho kid's dwelling. But if Qrow recalled correctly, Morgan had a son, one of the middle children. Qrow looked at his assailant again. The blonde hair matched. The huntsman went over to him and rolled the boy onto his back, only to jump back. Not only had the kid woken up, but he'd somehow gotten his hands on a knife and cut himself free. He stood, his blue eyes stared at Qrow with the intent to kill. No question now, the kid looked just like Morgan. The huntsman put up his hands. He didn't have time to get Reaper, which he'd left in the other room. Stupid.

"Easy there kid. My name is Qrow Branwen. I'm a huntsman." He sidestepped a lunge from Jaune Arc, "I knew your father! I've been to your house. Do you remember who I am?"

"People wearing dead people's faces!"

"Kid, listen-"

"No I don't know you!" Jaune came at him with the knife again, Qrow caught his hands and spun, pinning him to the wall. "Your name is Jaune Arc! Your father saved my life! You know me!" The blonde replied by head-butting Qrow and pushing him away. He was stronger than he looked.

He went for a downward stab, but Qrow kicked him in the stomach, irritating the gunshot there. The kid kept coming at him, grabbing whatever weapon he could. Qrow tried to defend himself without hurting Jaune as much as he could.

"You don't clear, man! You just die!" Jaune grabbed what appeared to be a rocket-powered sledge hammer and swung, Qrow tanking the blow by crossing his arms in front of his face. He stumbled and Jaune bridged the gap between them, straddling the huntsman and bringing another knife down. Qrow caught it inches above his heart, but Jaune pushed more of his body weight onto the weapon.

"Argh! You know me!" Qrow yelled again. Qrow had been to June and Morgan's wedding, had gone to Beacon with the man. He'd stopped by Alexandria whenever his job allowed and Morgan always invited him to stay the night.

"I don't know anyone anymore! YOU! DON'T! CLEAR!" Pumping aura into his arms, Qrow pushed Jaune away, grabbing a rifle from one of the stacks and knocking the knife from the boys hand. How could the little boy who was so enamored with huntsman, much like his own nieces, turn into this dangerous sociopath. "You crazy son of a bitch!" The huntsman yelled a he leveled the gun to the boy's face.

Jaune looked down the barrel and panted, before grabbing it put not trying to fight any longer, instead just holding it there. The look on his face changed from animalistic fury to sad, empty hopelessness. "Please... Please kill me!" He begged.

Qrow pulled the gun away, causing Jaune to roll onto his side and start sobbing.


	7. 6: Remnant of Zion

**Summary: RWBY/Fallout New Vegas Crossover**

 **Jaune fell out of a bullhead during a mission-gone-bad and wound up in Zion Valley. That's all I've got right now.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Ruby looked over the harsh landscape in front of her. The grassy desert sloped up into a large mountain range with canyons snaking through it for hundreds of miles. This place that took up over three hundred square miles between Vale and Mountain Glenn, which her team had been sent back to so they could clear out additional Grimm. The Great Basin.

Named for how it sloped lower between two sets of mountains.

With them were the remaining members of team JNPR, still disheartened, but not without hope after losing their leader, Jaune, almost three months ago.

The young reaper recalled her team's first mission when they were first-years. It had been towards the middle of their third year when both teams had come to do the same thing they were doing now, but the area was still fairly occupied by the monsters since team RWBY had blown up those underground tunnels.

On their last mission, the teams had been overrun, so they'd called the Bullhead to pick them up. They had gotten on alright, but once they were in the air, a trio of adult Nevermores came out of nowhere and attacked the ship. There was no serious damage, but in the constant hammering on the bullhead's hull, Jaune's seat harness had snapped off and he'd been flung out of the still-closing cargo door as the ship rushed to evade the Grimm. He'd fallen hundreds of feet, swallowed by the forest canopy.

Everyone had tried to urge the pilot to go back down for Jaune, Pyrrha had even jammed the barrel of her rifle-spear in the man's face, but Nora and Yang had wrenched her away. They realized it was much too dangerous to go back, and there was nowhere close enough to land to start an effective search. There was nothing anyone could do except hope he'd survive.

Pyrrha had been confident that he was still alive. Jaune was known for his large amount of Aura, and he had one of the best sets of armor the Arc family could afford. Plus that gun his father had given him after the Vytal Festival.

The real kicker was when Ozpin had completely restricted access to the area by all Beacon personnel. Despite RWBY and NPR's protests, he'd remained firm, but clearly distraught at the loss of one of his best team leaders. All they had left of their friend was his weapon, Crocea Mors. Ruby and Pyrrha had taken special care of it so it'd be ready for Jaune to use when he got back.

 _If he ever got back..._

Ruby shook the thoughts out of her head. He _was_ still alive. And they'd find him. Ruby looked down at the sparse grass. Then at her boots. They were newer since she and her friends had grown out of their outfits as first years. **(They have their season four outfits, minus Yang's robot arm, I'll think of something for P-Money later)**

They reached higher, just below her knees. She hoped Jaune liked them.

Wait, where did that come from?! Why did she care if Jaune liked them? He was just her friend. And he was missing! Aaargh, curse her teenage brain! She shook her head some more.

"What's wrong, Rubes?" Her sister, Yang approached from behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Ruby shrugged, "Those woods and canyons. That's where Jaune..." She trailed off.

Yang huffed, "Don't get so down. I'm sure that, one of these days, Vomit Boy'll come crawling out of those woods like a scrawny, blonde ghost." Ruby nudged her sister in the ribs with her elbow. "He's not scrawny!"

Weiss, Blake and Pyrrha came over and reported their progress. "We've either killed all the Grimm or chased them further into either the city or woods." Pyrrha informed. Ruby nodded, "We should take care of the ones getting away from the city. That way, they won't stumble upon any travelers or settlements."

Pyrrha called Nora and Ren over and they started off, toward the forests, and beyond that: the mountains and canyons.

* * *

The forest looked thicker from Mountain Glenn. They'd just barely made it out when they found their first group of beowolves. Between the seven of them, it took maybe twenty minutes. A ten mile hike for twenty minutes of action. Once they were done, they split up to observe the landscape.

Blake and Yang went off towards a nearby creek while NPR was searching through the brush. Ruby and Weiss took a high ridge that overlooked the river.

Once they were up, Weiss gasped at the land spread out before them. "It's beautiful." She said. The creek was fed from a wider river north of their position. The river continued north and split up due to large plateaus of red sandstone. Various cacti and bushes dotted the sandy soil. Ruby saw something that looked like a banana and approached it slowly, not knowing if it was poisonous. The fruit was yellow-white that grew off a thin stalk. Green, narrow, spiky leaves jutted out around it's base.

She used Crescent Rose to sever one from its home and caught it. She held it in her hands proudly, her arms straight out in front of her. When she lowered it to take a bite, a big, brown, furry wall blew her back with hot air. She dropped the strange fruit and watched in shock as the wall cut her off from it and made some gurgling, slurping sounds. Weiss came to her side with Myrtenaster dawn and it's dust cylinder spinning.

"Ruby! Are you alright?" She asked.

"Y-yeah, but I think that boulder moved."

"That's not a boulder, dunce."

"Then what is it?!"

"I don't know!"

At the sound of their arguing, and since it had finished off whatever it was doing, the behemoth of fur turned to reveal...

"A sheep?!" Weiss exclaimed. Indeed, it was a beowolf-sized, brown, Bighorn Sheep. It had two big, curled horns and a face with skin that was brown and wrinkly. Its teeth were stuck out as if it had no lips to shield them. The top of its body and most of its head were bare of the coarse hair. Ruby took a hesitant step towards it.

"It's kinda cute, not like a puppy, but like you might find a shark or a fish cute."

"Who finds a shark cute?" Weiss asked. Ruby gave her a look. "Right. Yang." She realized. Ruby got an idea. She went back to the tree and slowly wrenched another fruit off. She held it out for the creature, it looked at her with blank, brownish-grey eyes. Slowly, it outstretched its neck and took the fruit in its giant maw. It crushed it and chewed the yellow flesh before swallowing. It slobbered a lot of juice from its mouth. Hesitantly, Ruby placed her hand on its snout. The animal accepted the gesture and nuzzled her palm.

"Awww!" Both girls and the beast jumped up, the sheep-thing quickly retreated. The rest teams RWBY and JNPR had regrouped on Ruby and Weiss. Nora ogled at the giant sheep as it trotted away, bleating.

"Aw man! You scared it off, Nora!" Ruby yelled, falling to her knees, "I was gonna ride it around like a horse." She muttered, crestfallen.

"What was that thing?" Yang asked.

Ren watched it flee, "Certainly not Grimm, but I've never even heard of wildlife that...abnormal."

"Maybe its unique to this area. The same could be said about some of the plant-life." Pyrrha suggested, eying the sheep's choice fruit. Ruby got up and dusted herself off. "Whatever it is, its gone now. We need to get-"

Suddenly, the ridge erupted with gunfire, seemingly coming from all directions. The huntsman and huntresses in training took cover behind rocks and waited to return fire. Ruby tried to get a bead on the shooters with her weapon in gun form. They found their attackers and were fairly confused and slightly frightened by the sight. Over a dozen men and women in light armor and hide clothing came out. Some had submachine guns, others fire axes, one even had a flaming sword hooked up to a metal backpack he wore. He appeared to be their leader.

The attackers had red and white paint on there faces, and mostly white paint on their bodies. They all had black hair done up in braids and dreadlocks. Ruby, Pyrrha and Ren returned fire and covered the rest as they went on offense, fighting the melee fighters. Her friends were about to make contact when Ruby spotted two more rise up on the western ridge.

She recognized the tubular guns in their hands and immediately yelled for them to retreat. Too late, they heard her and paused to see the grenadiers' fire. The 40mm grenades sailed through the air and impacted the dirt, blowing up in a flurry of fire, metal and upturned soil. She and her friends were all blasted back from the force.

The barrage continued, Ruby vaguely heard at least eight explosions. Those were old-school grenade launchers, maybe from before the great war. The same age could be given to those .45 caliber SMG's the strangers used. Speaking of, they were advancing. Ruby reached out for her weapon when she was kicked in the ribs. One of the attackers, the leader, kicked her onto her back and raised the crude, flaming sword. Before he could bring it down on her head, a brown-black blur tackled him off of her. For a moment, she thought the sheep had come back to rescue her, but it was another person.

They were a little over six feet tall, decked out in black, dusty, faded-camouflage-colored armor under an old brown duster. His helmet looked like something a swat team member would where, but her savior also had a black gas mask attached to it with red, glowing optic lenses. Judging by the build, she assumed it was a man.

The man held her attacker down by keeping a boot on his throat before taking out a familiar looking, black and brown revolver.

He fired five shots, hitting one assailant with each bullet. He then took out two weapons that looked as if they were made from white piping and threw them, both flipping through the air and impaling themselves in the grenadiers' chests. He fought rather brutally, and the looks on the remaining attackers showed that they recognized his unique armor and revolver. They looked terrified. Most dropped their weapons and ran, but the man calmly reloaded the pistol and gunned them down.

She felt herself being picked up and an arm snaked around her throat. Someone, she presumed the leader, held the fire sword out at him. Ruby gasped as he began to bring it to her throat, but another gunshot rang out.

Their savior produced another handgun; this one a silver 1911, and shot at the blade. It snapped under the force, leaving just the weapon's hilt. The man walked forward calmly, and the attacker dropped Ruby. The armored man put his guns away and retrieved a curved wooden club, adorned with shiny bullet casings, beads and feathers. Her vision was limited due to her disorientation and a possible concussion.

All she heard was her would-be killer's screams as the armored man presumably bludgeoned him to death. Her vision began to tunnel, and she knew she'd pass out soon. The last thing she saw was her savior kneeling at her side, taking off his helmet to reveal a pair of caring blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair.


	8. 7: Cotton

**Cotton**

 **Summary: William Cotton is a hunter. His father, a retired huntsman. His mother... unknown. When he gets the idea to follow in his father's footsteps, his plans seem to fall apart at every turn.**

* * *

In the far northwest of Atlas, most of the land is tundra and forest, covered in snow in the winter and lush with trees and grasses in the summers. The coast is a mix of snow and rocky sand, with large cakes of sea ice drifting around. Due to the area's climate, very few Grimm came around this time of year. The only things the inhabitants had to worry about were bears, wolves, the cold, starvation, and the occasional angry moose. A few isolated villages stand out on these shores, made up of one room shacks and a few wood cabins here and there. The people there had few luxuries. One certain village had a single TV and phone for the whole village of eighty people.

The people of Inuit Village were fairly dug in for the winter. They had plenty of deer and seal meat and the hunters had found a beached whale that previous summer. The blubber and meat was left frozen for a while and had kept people fed for a month on its own.

However, not everyone was satisfied with stagnant life of hibernating in the winters. They grew restless in their hut and would want to go out. To live. For example: one of their sled runners there. The dogsled he used was an older one, made of bone and wood. It was held together by rawhide strips instead of nails or screws.

The driver would stand on the backs of the runners and hold on to the cross bar. There was a flat bed on the runners to carry supplies for long hunting trips.

It was pulled by dogs. Or was supposed to be. But the last of this rider's work dogs had perished or retired. The older dogs had grown a bit fat and docile, only being used to breed and train pups at a neighboring breeder's place.

As for the sled's driver, he was young, just over sixteen. His name was William Cotton. He scarcely came around the village anymore, though. Only when he needed supplies or to see old friends. These days, the things he came back for the most was ammunition. The village, like many in the area, received visiting traders via freighter ships, the weather being too cold for airships in the winter

Will, as he preferred to go by, owned a longbow and arrows he'd made himself, plus three guns. He never used the guns for hunting, but he did run into a fair amount of Grimm in his travels, so they came in handy.

His first gun was a 9mm Pindad PM-2 submachine gun with an integrated silencer and foldable stock. He'd also traded a polar bear skin for a wood-framed 7.62 TKIV 85 bolt-action rifle a few years earlier. When he turned thirteen, his father had given him his silver-grey M1911 pistol with a rosewood grip. The firearms were a bit dated, but Will had kept them in good condition.

While he mostly stayed out of the village, his father always kept the door open for him. The man raised him since before he could remember. He was a large man and smoked cigarettes all the time. Will hated it. He used to have to listen as his father coughed the cigarettes up every morning before starting the small stove in their house and cooking breakfast.

The boy was currently heading back to the village with three adult caribou and a leopard seal tied on his sled. How could the sled move if he had no sled dogs, you may ask?

Will had a semblance. Not many people in his culture had them or a use for them in his region. He didn't know what his was called or how he could do what he did, but it was pretty incredible.

It started out with being able to cast these glyphs. Small white symbols of ice and snow made up of his aura and allowed him to control those elements. The semblance was like a muscle, the more he practiced with them, the stronger it got. He found that this power could be taken further, becoming more versatile. Will was always testing the limits of how long and how far the abilities could be used. He learned to summon his first spirit two years ago.

The spirits were what he'd named physical manifestations of his aura in the form of animals and Grimm. They simply popped into existence when he made a certain glyph and were gone when he did it again. He mostly used this feature to summon a team that could pull his sled. Like right now.

The runners drifted over the snowy hills quietly, the harnesses clanging against each other as his spirits pulled through the snow. They were pure white save for a few accents of blue. And their eyes glowed cyan in the grey morning light. The dogs reassembled malamutes, with shining coats of ghostly white fur and tongues hanging out of their mouths. The five canines had eaten well of one of the deer Will had shot (Why the spirits needed to eat, the boy had no idea, but he thought of it as payment for them pulling his sled around), and had already gone thirty miles without a break.

When he saw the village, marked by the lights atop the fuel depot, Will dismissed the spirits, letting them run straight into a sigil that materialized in front. He and his sled passed through it without the dogs and let the momentum carry him down the hill to his home. Once he was halfway down, Will let the snow hook attached to his sled bury itself in the ground, slowing it down.

Once he was going slow enough, Will planted his feet on the ground and ran with the sled until he'd come to a walking pace.

He parked his mode of transportation outside his father's place, a hut with rough walls made of logs. The door was set on leather hinges with wooden hooks keeping it in place. He had to brush a bit of snow away before entering and shutting the door quickly as to not let the heat out. He heard the stove burning, smelled seal grease from his father's breakfast and cigarette smoke, but the man himself wasn't there. Against one wall were two beds, with curtain dividers for privacy and footlockers underneath that served as wardrobes.

Near the stove was a small table with an oilcloth table cover spread out on top. The cloth was patterned with willow trees and Will never knew why his father had ordered it. They were white, like every other thing up here, with long branches and feather shaped leaves. A few small purple flowers sprouted on the branches and stood out. His father had liked the trees and the flowers and had ordered it from a catalog.

Will had never seen willow trees except for the tablecloth and on a nature documentary on the TV in the communal lodge. He thought the willow trees were nice looking, how they'd swayed in the wind in the documentary.

After skinning and cleaning the deer and seal and putting the meat in the shed next to the house, Will took some of the deer tenderloin and a bit of seal meat and put it in a metal pan with snow to cook on the stove. He waited for it to thaw and heat up before cutting a piece with a metal fork and an ulu knife. He put it in his mouth and cut the meat off at the edge of his lips.

He cut another piece, chewed it, swallowed it, then saw that the rest of the meat was cooked nearly all the way through.

His father came in just then, holding a pile of driftwood in his arms. "Saw your sled outside. Haven't seen you in a month." The burly man said. Ashur Cotton's face was leathery from smoke and age, his black hair had streaks of grey in it and was slick with grease and snow. He had on a brown anorak parka with heavy overalls and mukluks. The former huntsman sat the wood aside and sat down. Will sat too and set the hot pan between them with the ulu and two metal forks.

The boy's appearance was the opposite of his father's; smoke-white hair that darkened to black at the root, lightly-toned skin and a lean body. His eyes were like a snow storm; grey and white swirled about in them with small flecks of blue on the rim of the irises. He was wearing a grey sweater, having taken off his deerskin parka outside, along with snow pants and his own mukluks, deerskin boots with the fur on the inside that went up to one's calves.

"How has the ice been?"

"Cold, but I haven't gone too far north this year, mostly running through the forests. I thought about going out to the Burn, but all the ice is gone. The dogs are getting stronger the more I use them. I've started summoning Grimm to help me when I run into Blakharts or Yetis." The boy told his father. They ate the meat and then just sat and talked for a bit.

Will and his father sat across from each other at the table. "Something troubles you." The older man observed. His son looked up from the seal oil lamp which he'd been staring into. He exhaled through his nose and craned his head back to look at the hole in the ceiling above the stove. "I don't know..." He said. It came out as a whisper, but he looked Ashur in the eye and tried again.

"I don't know what it is. It just started out there a few months back. I thought it was a higher drive to move, farther north or farther inland, but it never went away."

"You're feeling restless." His father observed. He leaned forward so the oil lamp cast shorter shadows on his face, the lines etched in it became more apparent. "Many feel that way up here. It's hard to stay in the brush for so long without seeing more."

"But I like it here. The snow melts in the summers and we do more and can move farther up and down the shore." Will said. His father shook his head and crossed his arms.

"It's not enough for everyone, Will. You need to go. Out. See the world beyond the tundra." Ashur explained.

"How?"

Ashur looked into the lamp's yellow flame. "Before I came back to the village and joined the counsel, I was a huntsman. I fought to protect humanity My job took me all around Remnant. The world out there is something you could only experience with your own eyes and ears."

"Do you think it's what I have to do?" Will asked. His father shook his head once again, "It's not a matter of _have_. You don't _have_ to do anything, son. You have a choice at your age to visit places that people in this village have forgotten about. Most of them feel they're too old to travel far, sticking to the shores. There are few young people in your generation, you know."

The young boy leaned back and steepled his fingers, letting Ashur's words sink in. While he'd never thought about traveling to the outside world, he saw the appeal. There weren't even three hundred people in the village and, while he'd seen other settlements, they were pretty similar to Inuit.

"But what's out there for me?" He asked his father. Ashur let out a series of wet coughs, before steadying himself. "That's something you'll have to figure out for yourself."

"How helpful." Will deadpanned before going outside.

* * *

The hunter spent the few hours of sunlight remaining butchering caribou and seal, with the occasional batch of fish. If only there was some whale meat left.

He dropped the freezing chunks of red meat elevated shed and decided to take a walk. Will kept his .45 on a hip holster under his sweater and parka. He had on a pair of snow goggles, made of walrus ivory with two long, thin slits that reduced the light taken in. Light bounced off the white snow from nearly all directions, which caused snow blindness if one was exposed long enough. The goggles had the added benefit of blocking snow from being blown directly into his eyes by the harsh north winds.

Making it to the edge of the village, Will held out his right hand, the palm facing towards the ground. The sigil he produced was made up of a circle with a dot in the middle. Two arcs opened outward with two lines extending outward from opposite points of the circle. With the central dot as the focal point, the rune spun clockwise until the pattern was reflected in the ground and a ghostly form rose from the icy blue fog. From the mist emerged the spirit of the rare Grimm cousin of an ancient saber-toothed cat.

A Razorclaw. It was twice the size of the average wolf, with white fur and "bone" spikes that sprouted around the junctions of the legs and plates of it along the spine.

Its mask was easily the most intimidating. Cyan accents painted it symmetrically, save for a rougher line across its left eye, which seemed more hollow and empty than the right. Curved, scimitar-like teeth reached down past its lower jaw. The rest of its teeth made themselves known as the Grimm specter's body wound back and it growled at its summoner.

Will didn't even wince, instead he growled back and stood over the specter. The Razorclaw upped the volume, its one unmarred eye glowing even brighter. Will switched from growling to hollering, and clubbed the Grimm spirit across the nose with his mittened hand.

The Grimm got the message after a few more strikes: Will was the alpha here. He'd earned that right when he plunged a skinning knife through the Razorclaw's neck.

Reaching into the deerskin pack on his shoulder, he took out a piece of raw venison and threw it to the spirit. The red meat disappeared down its throat and was never seen from again. Will put a hand on the Razorclaw's head, the Grimm huffing in response before walking in a few circles to tamp the snow down before laying down. It folded its paws and put its head on them before closing its good eye. It wouldn't get up. Will knew that.

"At least we're making progress." Will muttered as he dismissed the phantom Grimm. The stronger the Grimm that he killed, the harder it was to summon their spirits. This one was particularly difficult.

After a few minutes of walking the village's perimeter, the hunter decided to go inside and work on his weapons.

He checked the bow first. It was cable-backed, or reinforced with a tensioned cable that lined the face of it and attached by bindings on the ends. He used braided sinew to string the bow, and plucked it, hearing the strength in the cord and wood.

After that was a _Pana_ , or snow knife, with an ivory handle and dust-lined iron blade about a foot long. With that was a simple harpoon/spear made from wood and bone.

He sharpened all the bladed weapons/tools and cleaned them and his bow before continuing maintenance on his guns. When he finally put his rifle down, it was late in the evening and dark outside. He could here his father's raspy snoring in his bed a few feet away.

* * *

When Will woke up the next morning, he could here meat and water being cooked on the stove. The wood smoke was different, hints of pine and evergreen mixed with the usual, half-frozen driftwood. Also some of the dry mountain grass and moss that they used for tinder.

He got up and put on his pants and a blue sweater. His feet slid into a pair of moccasins on the floor and he stood up, moving the curtain that served as his bedroom wall.

Ashur adjusted the moss wick in the lamp as the meat cooked. It was the size of his father's hand, made from a ceramic bowl filled with melted animal fat. The fat served as fuel, being soaked into the twisted wick that stood out from the yellow liquid. Once the deer was cooked, they ate and talked more about Will's future.

"You said you were a huntsman. How'd you become one?"

"I went to a special school. One that teaches children, the youngest around thirteen, to fight Grimm and protect humanity around the world."

"Why would they teach children to do that?" Will asked.

"I suppose people figured that the younger the fighters started out, the more experience they'd have when there was a crisis. These schools have been around for many decades." Ashur explained.

"Why'd you stop fighting?" Will asked. He regretted it as soon as he said it. The answer, whatever it'd be, clearly pained his father. The man stared into the small flame, "I met your mother."

"You never talk about her." Will said, his father quietly tapped the tablecloth with the white trees and purple flowers.

"She is the reason why I bought this cloth. You and it are the only reminders I have of her." There was pain in his voice, but also joy. He closed his eyes and smiled, "She was a wonderful woman. But she couldn't stay with us." Ashur absentmindedly scraped some burnt fat off the lamp wick. "After she was gone, I retired to take care of you, moved onto my parents' farm for a while."

He'd heard of these warriors from TV and stories from traders that came up from the south, but had never seen one in person beside Ashur.

The boy looked at his bow, mounted on the wall above his bed. "So, say someone wanted to become a huntsman..."

* * *

Father and son stood opposite one another outside. Will was still in a sweater, pants and boots, hugging himself for warmth. His father had refused to let him grab a parka, said it would help build endurance.

"Dad, this seems a bit extreme. I literally just asked how I could become a huntsman." Will told the man. Ashur hefted a harpoon, a fire in his eye sparked up like nothing his son had ever seen.

"Being a huntsman _is_ extreme, son. You fight Grimm. You fight people. You travel great distances to go on mission for pay."

"And the best way of replicating that is to make be stand out here in the cold?"

"Well, that," Ashur hefted the spear, "and a bit more."

Without anymore warning or chit-chat, the man rushed forward, his weapon coming down on Will's head. The boy yelped and dove to the left, rolling into a crouch before dodging another swipe.

Shaking the snow of his clothes, Will sidestepped and rushed to throw a punch at his father's face, only for Ashur to redirect him with the blunt end of the spear, letting Will fall past him and into the snow.

"If I remember correctly, the next window for applications to huntsman schools are in _maybe_ six months. We've got a lot of work to do, boy!"

* * *

 **Alright, new OC story. Read, review, enjoy.**


	9. 8: The New Greed

**Summary: Based off characters from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. Jaune is expelled from Beacon after Ozpin and Goodwitch find out about his transcripts. Soon after, he disappears. When he comes back possessed by something greater, something much more dangerous, it could spell trouble for everyone.**

* * *

Ah, Beacon Academy. _His_ academy. The toiling, the desk-duty, the kissing up all led to this position. Headmaster. It had quite the ring to it. He was king of his own castle here, independent from those fools in the Council. He finally had something he could be _proud_ of. He gazed down from his tower at his students, the children her would become the finest warriors Remnant will ever see, he knew. He just hoped they wouldn't make they mistakes that he had.

It had been a while since the last of his _family_ were dealt with. Ozpin could only hope that _he_ wouldn't take a new vessel any time soon. It may complicate things, especially with the Vytal Festival coming up.

Ozpin went back to his desk and overlooked the paper work and alerts on the holo-projector.

 _Name: Jaune Arc._

 _Sex: Male._

 _Blonde Hair, Blue Eyes, 6'1"._

 _Age: 18._

 _Former Leader of Team JNPR._

 _Enrollment Status: Terminated._

 _Justification: Forgery of Academic Transcripts and Criminal Fraudulence._

 _Current Status: Unknown._

 _Last Seen: Arc Family Home in Dublith, Vale. July 5th._

Ozpin rubbed his eyes. He couldn't do anything more for the boy. That's what he told himself. The man tried everything he could to keep Mr. Arc's secret, but Glynda found out. That's all he needed to happen to know that if the boy continued his stay, everyone else would find out eventually. If he wanted to avoid it _completely_ blowing up in his face, Ozpin's only course of action was expulsion. It was probably better that way.

Only his own team and team RWBY knew the boy's secret. It seemed best to take care of Mr. Arc as quietly as he could, for his own safety and to avoid a possible scandal. Such a waste of potential. But, you can't win all your battles. To think you could was just greedy.

Greed. Something Ozpin was far too familiar with. And some _one_.

The Headmaster shook his head. No use crying over spilled milk. He was down one team leader and he had too many preparations to make.

"Professor Ozpin." It was Glynda, stepping off the elevator with a stack of papers in hand. "These are the last of the files for all students transferring for the festival, sir." She said, handing him the files. Despite Ozpin's rush to close the tab on his computer, Glynda still saw the boy's file. "Still no word from the Arcs?" She asked, concerned.

Ozpin sighed and removed his glasses to clean the lenses off. "None. It seems Mr. Arc is either dead or doesn't want to be found. We can only pray that he's alright." He answered curtly.

Glynda walked back towards the elevator when something caught her eye outside. Something was moving on the rooftops towards the tower. Whatever it was, it was too fast to make out, just a blur. As it got closer, it actually started climbing the outside of the building, and the huntress could make out the malicious glow of two purple orbs that could've been eyes.

Ozpin sensed his presence just as Glynda brought out her weapon, "Ozpin, get back!" The window exploded into hundreds of glass shards, and a considerable amount of dust and wind was brought in through the new hole. The man stiffened as he saw the outline of a man. The dust settled, revealing a young man with scraggly blonde hair and a lean build. He looked familiar, but Ozpin and Glynda couldn't see his face. What they could see, though, was the blackened skin of his hands and the symbol emblazoned on his left one. A winged serpent eating its own tail. The Headmaster grabbed his cane and shouted, "Glynda, get away from him, now!"

The man rushed forward with superhuman speed. A blackened hand, armored with the ultimate shield went to strike Ozpin's throat, but was held back by his cane. It seemed that neither one of them was able to overpower the other in this position. Now, the man could see his opponent clearly. He was adorned in a dark grey long coat, a black shirt with white lining, and black pants and shoes. His face was that of a young man, one Ozpin was _far_ too familiar with.

Staring at him with an almost chaotic intent to kill was his former student, Jaune Arc. The only thing about him that changed was that his hair was longer, loosely tied back, and his eyes had changed from an oceanic blue to an aggressive violet.

"Mr. Arc?" Glynda murmured. Her voice was lost as the two stared each other down. Mr. Arc's face was clearly in pain. Veins protruded near his eyes and neck, sweat dripped down his forehead and his scowl was twisted in pain.

"Well, maybe you can explain this, _Pride_." He growled out, "What the hell is happening to me?! Why am I seeing these things?! THEY KEEP CLAWING AT THE INSIDE OF MY SKULL!"

* * *

 **Nine months ago...**

"You seem a bit far from home, Headmaster Ozpin." Greed said as he stared down at the older man. Ozpin was sat on the floor, in the basement of a small dive bar in an outer slum of the City of Vale, adequately named The Brink. Surrounding him were Greed and his henchmen, mostly faunus. They were all probably cast out by society, treated as dredges of humanity. A near-immortal, avaricious monster like Greed would see them as prime candidates for hired muscle.

Ozpin sat with his cane firmly planted on the ground, his hands resting comfortably on the pommel. He calmly asked, "It seems you already know my name, and what might yours be?"

His arrogant opponent chuckled, "Well, you can just call me Greed, and I want everything you have. Now."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, "Oh? You dragged me all the way down here just to mug me?" He asked. Greed laughed a bit more, "Of course not. You see, headmaster. You're no ordinary man. The leader of one of the most famous huntsman academies in the world is quite the precious cargo to a man like me."

"Really, and what kind of man are you exactly, Mr. Greed?" The man knew this was probably a waist of time, but he had to be absolutely sure it was him.

Greed stood up and stretched his back, "Normally, those kinds of questions could get a man killed in a place like this, but for someone so high up in the world, I think I'll let you in on a secret." The purple-eyed man snapped his fingers and one of his goons, a very large cow faunus with a sledgehammer, swung sideways in one mighty heave, pulverizing the top half of his boss's head. Ozpin watched the body fall to the floor, leaving a pool of crimson blood leak out.

"Well that was awfully rude of you." He told the large faunus, gazing with mild disinterest. A flash of red lightening drew his eye as Greed's head was covered with it. Before his eyes, the man's body regenerated itself. First the bone, then the nerves, muscle, blood vessels and skin in just a few seconds.

Once fully restored, Greed got back up and cracked his neck. "You see Ozpin, I'm no ordinary man either." He smirked and raised the back of his left hand to reveal a tattoo of an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail. "I'm a Homunculus."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed and he adjusted his grip on his cane, "I see."

In a flash of movement, all of Greed's henchmen were sent flying due to a thrust straight to the solar plexus. Before Greed could react, Ozpin landed an open palm strike to his chest, sending him careening through the far wall.

Predictably, Greed's loyal followers tried to avenge him, swinging at Ozpin with tools, basic weapons anyone could buy at the right place, or just their fists. Some were more skilled than others, like the cow faunus, who revealed himself to be a former huntsman. How tragic that he had to die, too. Ozpin tried to dispatch them as fast as possible, knowing that they were too corrupted by the Homunculus's influence to be saved.

He then walked through the whole he'd made with Greed's flying form, which happened to lead to Vale's sewers. Greed was picking himself out of the canal, small arcs of the lightening sprouting form his chest as the damaged tissue mended itself. "That wasn't very nice, Professor."

The Homunculus stepped onto the concrete walkway that lined both sides of the tunnel and through off the fur vest he'd been wearing. He hands flexed as they were encased by his ultimate shield, but he stopped at his elbows. How arrogant of him.

Greed looked past Ozpin and saw what he'd done to his henchmen. "Wow, that was a little excessive. Trying to kill me is one thing, but they're not coming back."

Ozpin squeezed the hand guard of his cane, allowing the weapon to narrow and sharpen itself. "Pitying the lives of your pawns? I didn't think a monster like you was capable."

"Excuse me? Are you senile? Did you forget who I am, old man? I'm the living incarnation of greed. Those weren't my friends, Ozpin, they were my possessions. Money, women, henchmen, they're all possessions! So killing my henchmen is the same as stealing from me! And I don't let people take what's mine!"

With that he charged forward, swiping and slashing with his clawed hands. Ozpin blocked them with his cane, the blade sending off sparks as it collided with the biological armor that was his shield. He wasn't fast enough, though.

Every swipe, thrust and lunge that Ozpin executed was calculated, precise. He could figure out any man's weak spots, even Greed's. The man couldn't heal himself and keep his shield up at the same time, having to rely on dodging or taking glancing blows as he regenerated. Their fight landed them into the water as the canal grew deeper, reaching their knees. Ozpin didn't let up his bombardment of attacks as Greed started to panic.

"It's clear that you're sturdier than most, Greed." Ozpin said, "But I suppose I'll just have to keep killing you until you stay down."

Another thrust and a spin to get under his guard landed Ozpin a stab to the liver, followed by a kick to the stomach. The Headmaster knew that Greed wouldn't be able to shield his entire body, so he took any open shots he could. The organs, the knees, the face, the throat. He stabbed, slashed, cut up or cut off. He refused to let up as the monster in front of him regrew it's missing flesh.

But he slipped on an extra slimy patch of concrete. Greed saw this and grinned, not wasting the opportunity. He brandished his right hand and swiped right at Ozpin's exposed chest.

Greed's opponent was sent back a few yards, but kept on his feet. There was a reason the man was Headmaster, he supposed. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the damage he'd inflicted. Or, more accurately, what he didn't see.

His ultimate shield and spear should've helped rip Ozpin's insides out, slice up his heart and organs like paper! But he was completely fine!

Sure, he'd cut up the tailored suit the Headmaster wore, but that was all. That's when Greed saw it. Right where Ozpin's heart was. As red as blood and just like his, was an ouroboros tattoo. Distracted by the realization that this man was his own kind, Greed failed to stop Ozpin from impaling him through the neck and sticking him to the wall.

"I understand why you think you could best a man like me since I don't possess your impenetrable ultimate shield or your ultimate spear that can pierce any substance." He said in a low voice. "But I'll tell you a secret. Do you know how I distinguish myself from the rest of the huntsman, politicians and citizens of this kingdom time after time? How I rose to my current position?"

Greed could only glare and scowl as the sword dug through his neck. "Y-you...you're..."

"That's right. I may not have the protection of your ultimate shield, but I can detect your every move, I can see what's in that heart of yours, detect any weakness in your form. _That_ is how I found you, the last other homunculus, and how I know that by eradicating you, I can protect the kingdom I'm so _proud_ to call my own." Ozpin's face was calm, almost set in stone as he twisted his cane in Greed's throat.

The man choked out his dying words, "So, you're him, then. You're Pride the Arrogant."

"Indeed I am. Goodbye, Greed." With that, Ozpin removed his sword and sliced Greed to ribbons over and over again. And he did stay down. After dozens of deaths he stayed down, laying face down at the canal's edge. He tried to crawl into the water to find some kind of sanctuary, but Ozpin planted a foot on his back, pinning him to the ground. He lifted his weapon above him.

"H-how-cough-how can you call me a monster... when you and I are the same?" Greed asked. Ozpin stayed silent as he brought his cane down and severed his head from his body.

The Headmaster watched as Greed disintegrated, turning into nothing but ash. His head rolled into the water as it dissolved, and he turned away to make it back to his academy before teh authorities could find him.

 _'Because, Greed. I'm not what I once was. I've grown beyond the arrogant monster i was all those centuries ago. I have evolved. While I may be proud, I make damn sure that I have something outside of myself to be proud of. And do whatever it takes to keep it safe. Even killing the rest of my homunculus brethren.'_

As what was left of Greed's head hit the water, something was dislodged from the inside of him. A glowing, red stone, no bigger than a pebble. While one of those would usually sink, this one floated along in the current, getting spilled out into the canal that joined into a larger river.

* * *

 **Present**

"And why are _you_ there? Why do I remember _you_ , Ozpin?!" The body of Jaune Arc asked with the voice of Greed. "TELL ME! WHY DID YOU DESTROY MY POSSESSIONS!?"

As their stalemate continued, Glynda tried to flank the attacker, but her movement caught Greed's eye. It was all Ozpin needed. He pushed Greed forward and swung, but it seemed the homunculus had gotten a bit more agile since they last met. Then again, Ozpin had no way of knowing just how long he'd occupied Jaune's body.

Greed jumped and flipped over Ozpin before the older man set loose a series of quick jabs with his cane. His opponent managed to block or dodge them before trying to sweep at his legs. Ozpin jumped back before Greed rushed him, stopping himself at the wide desk. He turned toward Ozpin and leaned back just as he went for another thrust. The blonde's came up with exceptional force and kicked his cane out of his hands hard enough for it to stick into the ceiling.

Ozpin growled in frustration before grabbing Greed and throwing him across the room. He then jumped up and retrieved his weapon before leaping at Greed and moving to impale him to the floor.

Before he could, though, he saw Greed's shield spread up his neck, deflecting his cane into the carpeted floor of the office. It appeared Greed realized the odds of winning this battle, so he elected to jump out the nearest window, landing into a roll over two hundred feet below. He and Glynda got to the shattered window just in time to see him run into the tree line, lost to their view.

Glynda stood there, still shocked, as a few of Ironwood's men arrived in the elevator. The General had left a small detail on school grounds to act as extra security here.

"Headmaster! Professor Goodwitch! Are you two alright?" The leader, a sergeant, asked. Ozpin stared down at where he'd last seen his 'brother' and his former student. This was not good. "We're fine. Whoever that miscreant was, we were more than capable of handling him. The same can't be said for my windows, though." The Headmaster explained as the sergeant ordered his men around.

"We're terribly sorry, sir. He was moving so fast that he didn't trip any of the proximity alarms or motion sensors. The security cameras only barely caught him. It was like he knew where the pointed." The soldier said. They moved the teachers down the elevator to Glynda's office. The sergeant ordered guards at the doors, but Ozpin insisted on privacy. He settled on having two men posted outside the doors.

Once alone, Glynda sunk into her desk chair as Ozpin pulled up a chair across from her.

"What was that, Ozpin?" She asked in a quiet voice.

Professor Ozpin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It would appear that Mr. Arc's body has been taken over by a homunculus." Glynda's eyes widened, "You mean, like-"

"Yes. Like me. Apparently it's the same one I took care of a year ago in the slums of Vale. I didn't anticipate him to find a former vessel. Especially in one of _my_ former students." Ozpin's grip on his cane tightened.

"What do we do about him, sir?" She asked. Ozpin sighed, "I suppose we should start by summoning teams RWBY and PRN here. I did promise to inform them on updates of Mr. Arc's disappearance."

"That seems like a terrible idea, sir."

"Yes, well, it seems every move we make is sprouted from one of those. What's one more at this point?"

* * *

 **Two days earlier...**

In the sewers of Vale, several homeless people found refuge from the police, roving gangs of predatory hoodlums, or just the natural elements. For a short, bald lizard faunus, it seemed the labyrinth of tunnels and canals would be his death. No matter what crevice he squeezed himself through, what duct he crawled into, what catwalk he climbed up, his pursuer was only a few yards behind him.

Bido was already bleeding form several minor cuts on his head, and a more gruesome stab wound to the shoulder. "Why is he doing this to me? What did I do to deserve it?" He asked himself as he ran along a large steam pipe.

From the shadowy heights of the large tunnel's support beams, the young blonde man leapt down, tearing out a large whole in the pipe. Bido had to jump sideways to avoid the man, and he crashed to the floor and backed himself up against one of the walls.

He watched the blonde man stand and shake off some moisture from the steam. Then he laughed, "Well, this is fun. Most people tend to curl up and cry. It's about time somebody fights back!" He raised a hand as blackness creeped up his skin, sprouting from his sleeve all the way to his fingertips, which were more like claws once hardened. "I do appreciate the chance to _kill_ my boredom." He leered at the faunus with a smirk.

Bido gasped, not form fear this time, but form recognition. "The ultimate shield? And that voice! It sounds like... But you can't! You! How dare you imitate Mr. Greed!" He demanded, glowering at the supposed copycat.

The blonde chuckled, "Excuse me? I'm no imitation. My name _is_ Greed." He said. Bido eyed him wearily, "The Avaricious?"

"Hehe, that's right! I want everything you could possibly think of. Money and power, women and sex, status, glory-"

"You demand the finer things in life!" Bido finished his old boss's famous adage. Greed glared suspiciously, "Alright, who are you?" Just then, something flashed through, Greed's brain. It was an image, some dimly lit room with a group of people.

"It _is_ you. But, how? How can you look like someone else?" The lizard faunus muttered.

 _"_ I asked you who you are. Now tell me!" Greed repeated. He was starting to get a headache.

The faunus stood and pointed to himself, "It's me! I'm your friend, Bido! You haven't been gone from The Brink long enough to forget, have you?"

Greed's violet eyes widened, "Oh, you're from the Brink! Now it makes sense!" He said as he took a step closer. Bido's eyes shown with hope, "You remember me?"

The blonde's shielded hand speared through the faunus's stomach, coming out the other side of his hooded rags. He twitched as his eyes went wide. "'Fraid not. You must have been buddies with the previous Greed." The homunculus said.

"B-but... I thought..."

"Sorry, pal. But you and I have never even met." Greed removed his arm from the faunus's gut as he sank to the floor.

"But Mr. Greed... I'm your friend." Bido murmured out as he finally died, blood pooling across the cement.

"It's nothing personal, guy. I just can't risk anyone recognizing this face. I am sorry. Honestly." Greed grunted as more flashes shot through his head, like static on a TV monitor. His hands started to shake as he looked at Bido's blood, covering the hardened surface.

"What the hell?" The headache grew to a constant throb, and pain shot across his brain. It was like someone was jamming an icepick through his eyes. He could see those people again. They were smiling at with...admiration?

He collapsed to his knees, sweat dripped off his forehead as his breath became ragged.

 _"What have you done, Greed?"_ The kid asked. How his soul had remained intact this whole time was baffling. _"Are you determined to prove you're a monster? What kind of sick creature would kill his own friend!?"_

Greed's body spasmed with the pain as the brat's voice only added to the torrent within him. "He wasn't... my friend!" The homunculus shouted back. More flashes, a man with spiky black hair jumping off a crate and extending a hand towards him. A large cow faunus giving a two-fingered salute as he held a rich old man by the foot, cash spilling form his coat. A girl with short blonde hair tattoos of a snake up and down her arms, throwing knives at a dartboard.

The man clutched his head in his hands and slammed it into the concrete floor, moaning as these images burned in his mind.

 _"Then why do you remember him?! Are you gonna try and tell me that Bido was just making it up?!"_

"THOSE WERE THE LAST GREED'S MEMORIES! THEY'RE NOT MINE!"

 _"THEN WHY ARE YOU IN SO MUCH PAIN?!"_

Greed growled as the intensity grew, pressure built up behind his eyes and he felt like his head would explode. _"Pull yourself together, Greed! I'm warning you, I'll take my body back if you drop your guard even once!"_

"They aren't mine! They aren't! THEY WERE PURGED WHEN THE OTHER GREED DIED! THOSE MEMORIES AREN'T A PART OF ME ANYMORE!"

 _"NO! YOU'RE WRONG, GREED!"_ Jaune yelled out in defiance, standing from his seated position within Greed's being. He faced the homunculus directly, his true form inside the vessel. " _THEY'LL ALWAYS BE A PART OF YOU! YOU CAN'T JUST ERASE THEM FROM YOUR SOUL! THEY WERE THE ONLY PART OF YOU THAT YOU CHOSE! LOOK AT THEM!"_

More flashes, the cow faunus and blonde girl charging forward by his side to fight another group of thugs, all of them laughing over drinks in that bar.

 _"CAN YOU NOT HEAR THEIR SOULS CRYING OUT?! YOU ABANDONED THEM! YOUR REAL FAMILY! YOU THREW THEM AWAY FROM TRASH, YOU FOOL! YOU TURNED YOUR BACK ON SOMETHING YOU WANTED! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO CALL YOURSELF GREED!"_

Both souls screamed out at each other, Greed's eyes rolled back as they fought for control. He cried out in anguish, pain and rage as he held Bido's lifeless body. His screams loud enough to be heard in the tunnels for miles.


	10. Remnant of Zion Part 2

**Chapter 2**

When Ruby woke up, she found Yang slumped at her side. She was under a thick blanket made of something warm and furry. The same could be said about what she was laying on. The reaper slowly got up, rousing her sister from her half-sleep.

"Ruby! Are you okay? How are you feeling?" She was crushed by Yang's hug, but her sister released her when she realized her mistake.

"Sorry. How are you doing?" Ruby took a moment to gather her thoughts. "My head hurts a little bit, but I think I'm fine. Where are we?"

"In a cave." She turned to see Pyrrha sitting down against one of the walls. She was polishing the brown circlet she wore in her hair, a bit of a nervous habit of hers. "We've gathered that they brought us here after the ambush. They nursed us back to health, but now they won't let us leave."

Ruby looked around at the rest of her friends, all sitting around, helpless to do anything else. The only opening to the cave was a low entrance, barred off with a wooden gate. While the barrier itself wouldn't be much trouble, two guards were posted just outside. They were bald, wearing leather and hide clothes of blue, green and brown. They were both armed with curved wooden clubs and silver handguns, Colt 1911's by the looks of them, like that man in the armor had used. She turned to her sister, hoping for some sort of explanation. "We don't know much more than you do. I don't think Vytalian's even their first language. They just keep telling us to stay, wait and rest."

"Until what?" The young reaper asked. An unfamiliar, deep, monotone voice spoke, "Until I was brought here." They looked to the cave entrance, where the man in black and brown armor came in through the gate. He paused and turned to the guards, saying something in another language. They both nodded and promptly left. The figure then turned and stared at them. Yang got to her feet. "Who the hell are you?!"

"You saved us." Everyone turned to Ruby, who hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud. "Indeed I did. Don't feel too bad, though. The White Legs can be hostile towards newcomers. Believe me. I know."

"Understatement of the century." Weiss remarked. The armored man huffed, "As snarky as always, Schnee."

"Excuse me? How do you know my name?!" The heiress demanded.

"Who are you?" Ruby asked. To their surprise, he chuckled. "What, don't recognize your fellow leader, Crater Face?" He disconnected the air tube that was attached to his gas mask and lifted it and the helmet off his head.

His goofy grin and blue eyes hadn't changed. His hair was longer and a bit unkempt from going so long without a proper cut. What did change, though, was a long scar that ran along the bottom of his left jaw. It had faded somewhat, but it hadn't been there when they last saw him.

"Jaune." Pyrrha whispered, like if she said it too loud, he'd crumble into ash. The others couldn't believe what they were seeing either. He spoke again, "In the flesh." He smiled. The smile brightened as Pyrrha grabbed him in her arms and buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried!" She sobbed. Jaune held her, keeping her upright.

She looked smaller while they embraced, like he was trying to shield her from everything else. That did sound like Jaune. The others waited for Pyrrha to collect herself before more hugs ensued. Once he managed to unlatch Nora from him, he had everyone sit in a circle. He sat, too, and said, "I know you've all got a lot of questions. How I survived the fall itself and got to this place might take some time."

* * *

 **Three months ago...**

 **Forty hours after initial fall...**

When I woke up to the pounding ache within my own skull. Also, some junkie was waving a shaky gun in my face. Instinct took over, my hands snapping forward and wrenching the gun to my right. It went off, the noise nearly destroying my eardrums. I brought my knees to my chest and kicked the man, he lost his grip on the gun and fell back on his ass.

I got up and pointed the N99 at him, only to here several more firearms priming behind me. I turned around slowly. "Now what the hell is going on here, Ricky?!" An older, dark skinned man with a short beard demanded. He was dressed in a grey work shirt with stonewashed overalls. He held a pistol similar to the one 'Ricky' had tried to shoot me with.

With him were two women and another man. They were dressed in sets of brown leather armor. The women were equipped with a grenade launcher and the other with an old-looking caravaner's shotgun. The last man had a wood-framed hunting rifle.

I looked the old man in the eyes, "Your friend in the jumpsuit tried to kill me." I placed the gun on the ground, knowing that if I dropped it carelessly, Ruby would somehow appear next to me and slice me in two.

The man eyed me, then Ricky. "Alright. What are you doing way out here anyway? You get chewed up by an Ursa?" I looked down at myself. Indeed, most of my armor was gone, my favorite hoodie torn to shreds. My belt and small ammo pouch were still there, though. That meant...

 _Oh thank god!_

My father's old Magnum BFR sat in the holster on my waist. I removed my hand from it before they thought I was making some sort of move. "I fell from a bullhead."

The man chuckled, "That so? Haven't been any 'round here for years. Then again, those nevermore _were_ chasing after something the other day." My eyes widened. "The nevermores! That's what attacked our ship. Did they make it out?"

"Sure, the ship flew away like a bat outta hell, though. Don't think they'll be coming back. Where'd it come from, anyway?"

"Beacon. My team and another were sent to clear Grimm out from the area around Mountain Glenn."

"Beacon, huh? You must have a different kind of luck about you, kiddo. We're heading to Vale ourselves. You could always hitch a ride there."

Ricky got up and made a show of going around me and joining their group. "Are you crazy, boss?! We can't take some kid with us! W-we won't have enough, um, food, or-or supplies for an extra person."

The man, now named Jed, turned to the rambling man, "Well, I _could_ always kick you out. If he could take your gun like that, he's probably a hell of a lot more useful than you've been this entire trip." That shut him up. Ricky went over to me, not making eye contact, and grabbed his pistol from the forest floor. He holstered it and scratched at his neck, then at his arm.

Jed came forward and shook my hand. "Jed Masterson. Welcome to the Happy-Trails Caravan Company. What's your name, kid?"

"Jaune. Jaune Arc."

"Well, get ready for a long road ahead of us, Jaune. The terrain ahead gets rough."

* * *

 _The paths we're following are slow going, so you might as well keep your ears open and listen to what ol' Jed has to say._

 _A few decades back, folks around Sanus started to hear about a community in the east called New Canaan. Didn't know much about them, except that they were religious folks. Sent out missionaries to talk to the native tribes around these parts. Now, humanity's seen its share of cults, but the New Canaanites, they were honest traders. Good fighters, too. Raiders wouldn't tangle with 'em. But then the White Fang appeared in the Valean territories. I reckon you know all about them. Turns out that one of their first war chiefs was a New Canaanite: Joshua Graham. Legend goes that Graham was the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole damned Fang. The New Canaanites wouldn't talk about him. They were ashamed. Guess I can't blame 'em._

 _Well, at the second battle of Fort Castle around four years ago, ol' Graham finally met his match. Valean generals Hanlon and Oliver kicked his New Canaanite butt right back over the Crimson River. The Fang's leader, who was only known as Taurus, had to make an example for the others, to show them that even at the highest level, failure wouldn't be tolerated. He had Graham covered in pitch, lit on fire, and thrown into the Grand Canyon. People say he didn't even scream on the way down. Not long after, some of the faunus and tribals started to talk. Said Graham wasn't dead. Shouldn't have been any surprise._

 _But all this talk bothered Taurus and the other higher-ups, so they forbade anyone from speaking his name. Wanted to erase Joshua Graham from history. They got their wish. Joshua Graham disappeared. And in his place came legends of the Burned Man walking the roads. Maybe its just a tribal ghost story. But New Canaan's been silent for a long time. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe the chief is dead._

 _Or maybe, Joshua Graham_ did _crawl out of that canyon, and finally found his way back home._

* * *

 **One week since initial fall...**

After days of walking, our little group emerged from a narrow pass in the mountains to be met with the midmorning sun. Once we cleared the opening, the caravaners and I stopped to rest. Jed addressed everyone.

"Alright, people. Been a long couple weeks, but here we are. Zion. I know your feet hurt, and I know you're tired. But I need everyone's minds on the trail ahead."

Stella stood, "Ain't the trail that worries me, Jed. Those descents we made, through that slot canyon back up there? Ain't no way we're gettin' back out the way we come. And then what?"

"Goddamnit, Stella, I heard you the first time. And the fifteenth, too!" He argued. They'd fought like this all evening the previous night. "The New Canaanites will know a way. And if they don't, we still have the maps on our friend's Pip-boy over there-"

* * *

 **Present**

"Wait, what's a Pip-boy?" Ruby asked curiously.

"Oh, right. I doubt many know about them these days. They were these high tech, experimental computer-gauntlet-thingies from the Great War. They were extremely rare, but Ricky got this hands on an old, broken one. Except that he lied and said he could guide us through with its maps. The guy was basically the human equivalent of gas station sushi." Jaune spat. "I'd be happy to show you guys mine later."

"What? _You've_ got a Pip-boy?" Weiss asked.

"Yep," Jaune said, "Found it in an abandoned fishing lodge. You guys wouldn't believe some of the stuff it can do. It's got a radio, a geiger counter, a map system-"

"Uh, Jaune, could we maybe get back to the..."

"Oh, right, yeah. Sorry." He cleared his throat.

"So, you were passed out for almost two days?" Blake asked. Jaune nodded, "According to Jed, yeah. I fell on the 24th, they found me on the morning of the 26th. I spent almost a week with them. I obviously didn't care for Ricky, but Jed and Stella became good friends."

"Where are they now? Nora asked. As night had started to fall, they'd moved into a bigger cave. Several fire pits had been dug, but theirs was the only one occupied by people. Jaune stared into it, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "They're dead. All of them."

* * *

 **One week since initial fall...**

"Now, enough lollygagging! Get moving and keep an eye out for tribals!" Jed finished.

"Sorry to bother you with reality, ol' Jed," Stella muttered, "Who cares if we can't get back out the way we came? That's not a problem!"

I made sure my revolver was loaded and ready. When my father had given it to me, I was ecstatic. It had a dark wooden grip with a gold bear painted on, and a black receiver with the words "Against All Tyrants" etched along the barrel. It's name was Ranger Sequoia.

However, I'd grown to realize it's true use. It was first built during the years after the Great War, when tensions between kingdoms were at an all-time high. My grandmother had used it in her days with the Valean special forces, before she was discharged due to a bullet to the shoulder. I knew that this gun's main purpose was to kill people first, Grimm second. Given how frightening she could be today. I was shaken from my thoughts when our rifleman, Matthew,'s head exploded.

His body went limp and fell to the ground. I watched in horror as more bullets ripped into his flesh. Thankfully, Jed pulled me down behind a large rock and waited to return fire.

Maybe a dozen tribals, White Legs, judging by the white paint and twisted, braided hair, shot at us from the ridges to our north and our west flank. They'd waited for us. Nicole, the lady with the grenade launcher, tried to return fire, blowing a trio of shooters armed with SMG's off the mountain. She was killed a few seconds later.

I shot a few rounds with my revolver, managing to catch an attacker in the leg. He fell off the ridge and landed on his head with a sickening _crack_.

"I-I didn't sign up for this! My stupid Pip-boy doesn't even work!" I heard Ricky yell. Jed and I watched him make a break for the pass, but he was cut down, bullets ripping through his body like a hot knife through butter.

"Damnit Ricky! You sonofabitch!" Jed cried before running for Matthew's body. He grabbed the man's rifle and some magazines before tossing the armaments to me. Another barrage of gunfire cut off his path back to our rock, so he had no choice but to use his comrade's own corpse as a meat shield.

I covered him with the hunting rifle long enough for him to make it back. That's when Stella tried to run to our position. She didn't make it.

"Stella!" I yelled. Her body was limp, a large caliber bullet had taken her arm off and the second caved her chest in. I started to see red. These savages slaughtered the people who took me in and helped me for no personal gain to themselves, so if I was going down here, I'd make damn sure I'd take some of them with me. I thought I'd gotten the last of them, but then I heard a cracking noise. I turned to Jed to see a makeshift tomahawk made of railroad spikes and PVC piping sticking out of his chest. It must've broke through his ribs and hit a lung. Blood spurted from his mouth and he fell to the ground.

"J-Jed?" It was no use. He was gone too. I ducked under more gunfire as a couple more SMG wielders made their way down the ridge to me. I ducked and jumped down a short wall, making my way along a narrow lip. It was high above a river that ran parallel to the trail. I scurried over to a bridge that stretched across the gorge.

Once across, I took cover behind a dead log and reloaded my guns. I could hear them hollering at me and shooting their guns over my head. Suddenly, seven gunshots erupted simultaneously from my front and, when I peeked over the log, I saw the tribals fall over, dead. One even fell off the bridge and into the river below.

"Hoi! White Legs don't leave survivors often. You're some kind of lucky, let me tell you." I spun around quickly to see a young man, no older than I was, holding a smoking, silver handgun. "You came from outside, didn't you? From civilized lands?" He asked. I was too stunned to answer.

"Wow...Joshua will want to hear about this." He came closer and hoisted me too my feet. He was dressed in hide armor like the White Legs, but his was a mixture of brown, green and blue. His whole body was covered in dark tattoos and he had an old, brown baseball cap with a _W_ on it.

"Uh, who's Joshua?" I asked, still in shock.

"Joshua Graham. He leads our tribe. Thanks to him, the Dead Horses are strong and safe from our enemies. He'll want to talk to anyone coming up from south-ways. Guess that means you, now. Come, I can take you to him."

Obviously, I was hesitant. This guy just comes from out of the blue and saves me, now he wants to take me to his leader? I looked across the wood bridge, seeing the smoking remains of the caravan and the bodies of the fallen. I didn't really have a choice.

"Alright. Let's go."

"Ah, goot sists. We head east, then. Joshua is at our tribe's camp in the Eastern Virgin." He started off, but I called out to him to wait. He looked at me expectantly.

"What's your name?" I asked as I caught up.

"I am called Follows-Chalk."


	11. 9: You've Been Served

**Summary: Instead of becoming a noble huntsman, Jaune becomes the least noble thing in Remnant. A dredge upon humanity, and a parasite of the masses that suckles on the common man's teat until he has sore, chapped nipples.**

* * *

Junior Hei Xiong sat on a sofa in his lush office, bandages wrapped around his forehead from a recent assault on his establishment. His nieces were standing by the door, keeping guard to make sure the conversation wasn't overheard. If things got out that Junior was hiring one of... _them_ , his reputation in the crime underworld would be ruined.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, however, and he couldn't take chances when dealing with a huntress in training. The young man in front of him was... not what he expected. He was maybe the same age as Blondie, with the hair to match. He was wearing a dark paisley shirt with black slacks and dress shoes, along with dark leather driving gloves. He smoked a stubby cigarette, which was nearing the last of its life as he dangled it over an ashtray.

Junior took a shaky drink form his whiskey and cleared his throat, "So, Mr..."

"Please, just call me Jaune."

"Okay, Jaune. Uh, so, do we have a deal? Half now and half when the job is done?" Junior tugged at the collar of his shirt. Was it hot in here?

"Yes. The price'll do. Expect to here from me in the next forty-eight hours. You have her information?" The blonde asked. Junior waved Melanie over and she handed Jaune a manila envelope. He checked the contents before pressing out his cigarette and standing up. "Very well, Mr. Xiong. I'll be in touch." They shook hands and Jaune was shown out the door.

"He was kinda cute, don't you think?" Miltia asked her twin. The white-clad girl shrugged, "I guess so. Maybe in a 'clueless puppy' kind of way."

Junior ignored them and tried to come to terms with his actions. Was he being too harsh on the girl that trashed his club?

It didn't matter. The deed was done.

* * *

So far, Beacon Academy was turning out to be everything Yang had hoped to be. She was on a team with her sister, Ruby, and... their partners...

Okay, so they could be friendlier, but bonding takes time, ya know? Blake was clearly the dark, mysterious type and Weiss was slowly warming up to the idea of Ruby being team leader. Progress!

It was a Saturday morning and they were all looking forward to unwinding after getting into the swing of their classes.

Yang was currently brushing her hair on top of her bunk bed, Weiss and Blake were reading and Ruby was doing some maintenance on Crescent Rose when they all heard a knock on their door. "I've got it!" Ruby called out as she sped over to the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a tall blonde boy around their age. He was wearing a mail courier's uniform and glasses, holding a clipboard and a thick manila folder in his hands.

"Good Morning. I'm looking for a Yang Xiao Long." He said with a smile.

"Who's asking?" Yang questioned skeptically. She didn't recall ordering anything and she and Ruby had already received congratulatory letters form Dad.

The boy looked at his clip board. "Says here she's won a free promotional subscription from 'Us Blondes Haircare Magazine'."

Yang had never heard of that issue, but was happy to except some free haircare swag. She hopped down from her bed and confirmed that she was, in fact, Yang Xiao Long. As she signed the sheet on his clipboard and was handled the folder, something changed in his smile. Something almost predatory.

"Congratulations, Ms. Xiao Long. You've been served." His announcement got the attention of the rest of her team as Ruby asked, "Uh... what?"

"It's a subpoena. You're being sued by the proprietors of Club Glo for destruction of property, as well as several assault claims." He said as Yang held onto the folder, standing their dumbly. "Hope you've got a good lawyer." The guy said as he started walking away. Suddenly, Yang's irises glowed a fiery red and her fists clenched, crumpling the papers in her right hand as she ran after the faux mailman. She roared in anger as she cocked her arm back, intending on shoving the court papers where the sun wouldn't shine.

To her surprise, the boy ducked and sidestepped her attack, and as she turned to try again, she felt something small pierce her side before all her muscles tightened and she felt some of the worst pain she'd ever experienced. Violent currents of electricity coursed through her body as the court server hit her with his stun gun.

She promptly collapsed in a groaning heap, and Jaune reloaded his taser as he heard the blonde girl's team catch up to them. "Yang!" The smaller girl yelled as she helped her friend. The black and white-haired girls drew swords and stood ready to use them, but made no move to attack first.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The white one demanded. If Jaune remembered correctly, she was a Schnee, but couldn't remember the first name.

"Me? Nothing. Your friend, on the other hand, was jus hit with about a million volts. You're gonna want to take her to a nurse or something." He said nonchalantly.

"You just tasered my partner!" The black one yelled as she raised her blade to the blonde's throat. He remained calm as he slowly holstered the stun gun.

"I was merely defending myself, _m_ _a'am_. Your partner moved to assault me, I acted. Much like the peopled she assaulted a number of weeks ago are acting." This made the two pause as the small, red girl helped Ms. Xiao Long to her feet.

"What are you talking about?" Ms. Schnee asked, lowering her rapier a bit. Again, slowly, Jaune drew his server's badge, certifying his position as an employee of the justice system. Seeing this, Ms. Schnee sighed in frustration and sheathed her weapon.

"Crap." She muttered.

"Weiss?" Red asked cautiously.

Weiss Schnee sighed again before explaining, "He's a court server, Ruby. Basically, when someone, be it a person, a company or the court itself, needs to find someone and summon them to a legal meeting, these guys are tasked with tracking them down if they can't be found through practical means. I hate to say it, but he _was_ just doing his job." She turned to Jaune. "Now, what's this business about an assault at a club?"

Jaune picked up his clipboard and rifled through some documents as he cleared his throat. "On March 27th of this year, Yang Xiao Long entered Club Glo illegally, as evidenced by CCTV and security camera footage in and outside of the main building. She then proceeded to approach the manager, one Junior Hei Xiong, and alleged that she believed him to be a broker of information. When Mr. Xiong denied her claims and requested that she vacate the premises, she grew hostile before attacking Mr. Xiong and his employees with deadly, huntsman-grade weapons and inciting a panic amongst the club's patrons. In the process, she injured twenty three club personnel, including security guards, a DJ, two waitresses and Mr. Xiong. She's looking at almost a million in damages, not including medical or psychological."

The team, minus the semi-unconscious victim of the justice system, stood their, shocked, absorbing the news. Jaune handed a small business card to Weiss, seeing her as the most sensible of the group. "If you have any further questions, contact me or anyone at the kingdom's legal department. Have a nice day."

With that, he walked away. Team RWBY slowly walked to the nurses office as Yang regained her senses. "Dad's _not_ gonna be happy about this."


	12. 10: Not My Father

**Not really sure where I'm going with this one yet. It'll definitely be a crime/mystery story more than anything else.**

 **Main premise is that Jaune went to Signal with Ruby and Yang, lives in Vale's suburbs with his family, but his dad, a former cop, is in jail for a crime he totally committed.**

 **Pairing'll probably be Jaune with Weiss(Because both their dads are kind of twats) or Yang(because they both have some temper issues).**

* * *

When he was growing up in the suburbs of Vale, there were to common legends about the neighborhood.

One was that a notorious Mafia leader lived in a baronial mansion protected by an iron gate and armed guards and that there was an incinerator in the back that may have been used as a makeshift crematorium.

The second legend was that a few blocks away from his property was a decommissioned, subterranean prison from the Great War where Atlesian prisoners were tortured and executed in secret.

Years later, he learned that both legends were true.

* * *

He hid the baseball bat behind his leg, so Trey-at least, he assumed it was Trey- wouldn't see.

The Maybe-Trey strutted towards him with the fake tan and emo-fringe hairdo and meaningless tribal tattoos lassoed around his bloated biceps. Ellie described Trey as a "purebred twat-waffle." This guy fit the bill to the _T_.

Still, Jaune had to be sure.

Over the years, he had developed a really cool deductive technique to tell if he had the right guy. Watch and learn:

"Trey?"

The choad-gobbler stopped, gave Jaune his best neanderthal forehead furrow, and said, "Who wants to know?"

"Am I supposed to say, 'I do'?"

"Huh?"

He sighed. See what kind of morons he has to deal with?

"You replied, 'Who wants to know?'" He continued. "Like you're being cagey. Like if I called out, 'Mike?' you wouldn't've said, 'You got the wrong guy, pal.', by answering 'Who wants to know?' you've already told me you're Trey."

You should've seen the perplexed look on this guy's face. Jaune took a step closer, hiding the bat out of sight.

Trey was all wannabe gangsta, but Jaune felt the fear coming off him in hot, axe body spray-scented waves. Not surprising. He was a respectable-sized guy for his age, not a five-foot woman Trey could slap around to feel big.

"What do you want?" Trey asked him.

Another step closer.

"To talk."

"What about?"

He swung one-handed because it was fastest. The bat lands whiplike on Trey's knee. He screams, but he doesn't fall. Now, Jaune gripped the bat with both hands. He recalled how Dad had taught him to hit in Little League. Bat back, elbow up. That was one of his mantras. How old was he then? Nine, ten? Doesn't matter. He did it just the way his old man taught him. He pulled the bat all the way back, elbow up, and stepped into the swing.

The meat of the wood landed flush on the same knee.

Trey went down as if he'd shot him. "Please..."

This time, Jaune lifted the bat high overhead, ax-chop-style, and, putting all his weight and leverage into it, he again aimed for the same knee. He felt something splinter when the blow landed. Trey howled in pain. He lifted the bat again. By then, Trey had both hands on the knee, trying to protect it. What the hell. Might as well be sure, right?

He went for the ankle. When the bat crash-landed, the ankle gave way and spread out under the onslaught. There was a crunching sound like a boot stepping on dry twigs.

"You never saw my face," Jaune told him. "You say a word, I come back and kill you."

He didn't wait for a reply.

Three blocks away, Jaune dropped the bat into a mini-mart dumpster. He'd worn gloves so there'd be no fingerprints. He'd bought the bat years ago at a garage sale near Spring Street. There was no way to track it back to him. Not that he worried. The cops wouldn't bother dumpster diving into cherry Slurpees to help out the likes of a professional asshat like Trey. on TV, they might. In reality, they'd chalk it up to a local beef, drug deal gone wrong or gambling debt or something else that made it well and truly deserved.

He cut through the lot and took a circuitous route back to where he parked his bike. He was wearing a black ball cap-very street-and kept his head down. Again, he didn't think anyone would take the case seriously, but one might meet up with an overzealous rookie who pulls CCTV or something.

It cost Jaune nothing to be careful.

He started the motorbike, hit highway 280, and drove straight back to his neighborhood, Westbridge. His scroll rang while at a red light-a call from Ellie. Like she knew what he was up to. Ms. Conscience. He ignored it for now.

Westbridge was the kind of "Dream Suburb" the media might call "family-friendly," maybe "well-to-do" or even "up-scale," but it wouldn't reach the level of "tony." There were Rotary Club barbecues, Vytal Festival tournament viewing parties, street carnivals, farmer's markets. Kids still rode their bikes to school. Highschool sports games were attended, especially when they played their rivals at Vale Central. Little league was still a big deal. Coach Shrike died a few years back, but they named one of the fields after him. Jaune still stopped by the field now and then on his way to Signal. Good memories were planted in that mulched grass.

He pulled up to his house and parked next to Mom's car. He saw that Ellie's was there as well, and he assumed she'd grabbed Ivy and Hannah from school on her way over.

Tammy and Ned Walsh from next door were cleaning their gutters. They both gave him a wave.

"Hey, Jaune," Ned said.

"Hey, Ned," Jaune said. "Hey, Tammy."

He was friendly like that. Mr. Nice, Responsible Teenager; one of the rarest of creatures to spot in suburban towns. He had worked hard to come across as boring, normal, reliable. At least, as normal as he could seem when he brought a sword, shield and handgun to school with him every day.

Dad had been in the clink for three years now, so he guessed some of the neighbors perceived them as _that_ family. Most of the neighborhood knew the basics of their story by now.

He was still waving to Ned and Tammy. "How's Brody's team doing?" He asked, not that he cared.

"Eight to one," Tammy said.

"That's awesome."

"You and some of the girls should come to the game next Wednesday."

"I'd like that," He replied.

He'd also like to have his kidney removed with a grapefruit spoon.

Jaune smiled more, waved again like an idiot, then headed into the house. After that night-he still referred to it as "that night" because "the night his dad got arrested and destroyed the fabric of their family" just didn't have the same ring to it- the family had moved here.

After being greeted to the standard greetings from his mother and elder sisters, most wiped out form their shifts at work, he went to his room on the ground floor to see Joan at her desk, doing homework.

"How was your day?" She asked, not looking up from her work. Jaune shrugged, "Could've gone better. Yang kicked my ass in sparring again. You?"

"Aced a history quiz." She said monotonously. She liked to joke that never having to stretch her legs gave her more time to study. Her twin plopped down on the bed and opened his scroll to see a text from Yang herself.

 _Got some BIG news to tell you tomorrow - Y_

Jaune typed back, _Who's the father?_

It was a miracle he didn't have his own HBO standup special. Yang replied with an emoji depicting a middle finger raised heavenward.

Dinner went by without too much weirdness. Ivy and Hannah were threatening to drop out of college for the fifth time this semester until their mother silenced them with a threat of making them pay for meals every time they came from their dorms on campus to the house, Blanc was gonna miss her friends as she graduated middle school. Mom had finally gotten her raise at work.

With eight kids, only three of which having full time jobs, and with two in college and one at a combat school, financial strain was a constant threat for the Arcs. Yet somehow they made due.

* * *

Later that night, Jaune and Ellie were hanging out in the living room before she had to get back home. "So, should we talk about Trey?" She asked.

"Who?"

Ellie frowned at him. "Trey."

Jaune's face was blank.

"Trey is Brenda's abusive boyfriend."

"Oh, right. What about him?"

"Someone attacked him with a baseball bat. He won't be able to walk for a long time."

"Ah, that's a shame," He said.

"Yeah, I can see you're crushed."

Jaune almost said, _Crushed like Trey's leg,_ but he held back.

"On the positive side," Ellie continued, "Brenda was able to go back to his place. She got her stuff and the kids' stuff and she was finally able to sleep. So we are all grateful for that."

Ellie looked at Jaune a second too long.

"We shouldn't."

"What?"

"You first asked me if we should talk about Trey. I've decided we shouldn't." The boy said before getting up and heading to the fridge. "Say hi to Bob and the girls for me." He said.

He grabbed a soda and some chips for Joan and headed back to their room. Joan was playing a game on her scroll and accepted the snacks wordlessly. After a few minutes of silence, she asked, "Excited to go to Beacon?"

"I guess." He replied. The letter had come the month before with mixed reactions. Everyone was generally happy that he'd been accepted. Mom was relieved that his tuition to Signal was one more thing to check off their seemingly endless list of expenses. Joan was fairly happy to get her own room for the first time in a decade, but she and Blanc were gonna miss having him around.

"Did you hear about Ruby? She called me earlier today." She asked him.

"She okay?"

"Oh, I'd say she's better than okay."

* * *

Yang and Ruby were back at Signal, in one of the dorm buildings' rec rooms. Yang was schooling her at foosball when her scroll rang.

"Hey Jaune, what's up?" The blonde asked.

"Is Ruby with you?"

"Yep."

"Put me on speaker."

"Alright... Okay, we're listening."

"Great. So, what's this I hear about Ruby stopping a Dust store robbery?!" Jaune demanded. Yang laughed at his anger while Ruby groaned, "I'm never telling Joan anything again!"

* * *

 **Yeah, so, figured I'd put this in the anthology since I haven't posted any actual content in a while.**

 **I've been writing a real RWBY fic to high heaven for the past few months and am about 30K words into it. I might release the first chapter or two in a bit to see how I feel about it and see what feedback it gets. It's sort of a cross-over with Neil Gaiman's American Gods along with some elements from other books and TV and stuff.**

 **So, be on the lookout for that.**

 **Bye.**


	13. 11: Daredevil

**Summary: It's RWBY and Marvel/Netflix's Daredevil, but with Jaune Arc. What more can I say.**

* * *

Elijah Arc was a tough man. He'd been kicked around a boxing ring for most of his life, his wife died only two years after giving birth to their only child. But now, he was shutting down. He had been walking out of his gym in the neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen in the city of Vale when he heard a violent crashing and saw a bunch of people flocking to a car crash.

He pushed his way through the crowd, realizing that moments before, his son, Jaune, had gone ahead in that direction to browse a convenience store.

"Move, move...GET OUT OF MY WAY!" He stopped when he saw his eight year old son, lying on the ground, a gash on his head, his small body bruised up and by his head was a pool of liquid leaking from a flipped truck. He broke through the circle of people and knelt by his son.

"Jaune? Jaune? Jaune, hey, don't move. Don't move, okay? SOMEBODY GET US SOME HELP!" Jaune was panting, his hands trying to grasp his father.

"D-Daddy? W-what happened?"

"Just don't move, son..." He looked around at the other wrecked cars until he saw an injured man, maybe in his forties, look toward him. His eyes were like bowls of milk, indicating the man was blind "You're boy...he pushed me out of the way. He saved my life." Elijah then saw Jaune hold his own face in agony, "Dad... Aargh! It burns..." He saw the black barrels marked with the Schnee Dust Company logo leak out a clear liquid, and noticed some on Jaune's face. The liquid emitted a smell similar to hot tar.

"Oh Monty...Listen, Jaune. C-close your eyes." Elijah panicked as he tried to wipe the chemicals off his son's face with his sleeve.

"D-d-dad...I can't see! I CAN'T SEE!"

* * *

A boy, around eighteen sat in a confession booth in a church. He wore a simple black hoodie, jeans and white sneakers. His foot tapped restlessly as he spoke to the priest on the other side of the grated wall. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been...It's been too long since my last confession. My dad, he used to take me to this church when I was a kid. He was a fighter. Old school, boxer. He lost more than he won, on a 24-31 record. But he could take a punch. Monty, he could take a punch-"

"Language." The priest interrupted on the other side of the confession booth.

"Sorry. The guys he went up against, he used to say it was like hitting oak. When he was out-matched, my dad's strategy was to let 'em hit him until they broke their hands. Hehehe, he never got knocked out, I'll tell you that much. Knocked down, sure, but he always got back up. he was always on his feet when he lost. Every now and then, though...Every now and then he'd get hit and...something inside him would just snap."

He paused, the priest waited patiently. "My grandma, she was the real faithful one. She'd always say, 'be careful of those Arc boys, they got the devil in 'em' and you'd see it sometimes. In the ring... his eyes would go dead, and he'd start walking forward all slow...hands at his sides like he wasn't afraid of anything. The other guy, he'd see that look and he... he'd try to get away from him. But my dad, he'd trap them in a corner and..."

Some emotion was seeping into his voice, "...Let the devil out. I didn't understand it, you know... What he felt deep inside, I didn't understand it." He felt a tear stream down his left cheek. "Not back then..." He trailed off.

"But you understand it now?" The priest asked, "This would be easier if you'd tell me what you've done." The boy put on a pair of tinted, circular glasses. "I'm not seeking penance for what I've done, Father. I'm asking forgiveness, for what I'm about to do."

"That's not how this works. What exactly are you going to do?" The priest asked.

* * *

 **That night...**

Three girls in their early twenties struggled to break free as a group of beefy men forcedly dragged them to a group of stacked shipping containers on a shipping dock in the city of Vale. Their boss, a dark skinned man with a thick but close trimmed beard and black leather jacket, shouted, "Hey, hey! Shut up! We getting' a thousand lien a head for ya'll. So, if you don't scream, I'll give you a bucket." He said as he held up a white plastic bucket.

"But if you don't..." He held up a cattle prod and flicked it on, scaring the poor women even more and making them scream. The man just rolled his eyes and jabbed the closest girl in the side with it, making her twitch before her body went limp. The men threw the girls in the container and shut the doors, bolting them shut.

A dark figure kneeled on one of the containers up high. The person wore all black and had a mask covering the top half of his face, eyes included. Its not like he needed them.

As one of the men tried to hit a girl with a baton, he jumped down and slammed his elbow into the back of his neck. He stood completely still, listening as more goons were called to stop the intruder. One tried to run at him from the side, but he grabbed his arm and twisted before kneeing the man in the gut and pushing him off the dock into the water. The leader pulled out a gun, and the intruder rushed back into the maze of containers before the boss could cock his pistol.

The masked man crept low along the top of the metal box before jumping down and dodging to avoid a wooden 2x4 and elbowing the swinger of it in the throat. He then pulled out two steel daggers and deflected a lead pipe being swung at his head, but the goon swung again and caught him in the side. He slammed his leg into the man's knee, hearing the bones break and disconnect as the thug screamed in pain. He then turned and threw a dagger, pinning the sleeve of the boss's jacket to the metal. The knife was embedded to the hilt in the steel wall.

The man stopped again, and hearing nothing put painful groans and the leader struggling to escape, approached him.

"This is Mistrali leather, motherfucker! Who's paying for this shit, huh?" The man just effortlessly took the dagger and sheathed it and its counterpart in the sheathes on his thighs. He then round house kicked the man in the face, knocking him out. He heard police sirens and ran to the container with the girls trapped in and broke the lock on the bolt before opening it. "Head towards 48th and Roan street. Stick to the light and find the first officer you see." The women just stood, frozen in shock and fear. He hit the metal, creating a loud bang, "NOW!" He then ran off, out of the docks and through side streets until he found a fire escape and climbed up. Heading across the rooftops into the night.

* * *

Jaune Arc laid in bed before he heard the clomping footsteps of his best friend and soon-to-be ex-roomate, Foggy Nelson. He entered Jaune's room, stopping next to Jaune as the boy struggled to awaken. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Foggy? What time is it?" Jaune asked groggily. "Half past get the hell up. Your airship to Beacon leaves and I got classes in two hours. I want to get food before then. Let's go."

"Ugh."

"What's wrong?"

"Just sore." Jaune replied, "From what? Wait, did you stay with someone late? Was it that grad student visiting from Vacuo U.? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, I do want to hear about it. What was she like?"

Jaune groaned again, remembering where he'd been hit in the side the night before, "Dude, you know why. A pipe to the rib cage ain't painless, even with aura." While his aura had healed him so there'd be no bruise, it couldn't stop the after effects of taking a lead pipe to the ribs.

"Yeah, well, you're lucky for that magic huntsman mumbo jumbo. If you died out there one night, I'd kill you. Oh, by the way, met a girl who's studying real estate, she's not your type, very homely and she kinda thinks blind people are Monty's mistake."

"That's a horrible thing to say, Foggy."

"I know. In this day and age? Alright, shake a leg, I'll go get dressed."

"Alright." Jaune got up, wearing just pajama pants, and made his way to the shower. He had lived with Foggy for two years. He'd been studying to be a lawyer at one of Vale's best universities and needed a roommate. Since Jaune needed a place to stay while he studied to become a huntsman, it worked out great. They both had similar interests and Foggy's outgoing and forward personality was a refreshing change for Jaune, who was used to people using kiddy-gloves around him due to his condition. Plus, the rent was cheap.

Unfortunately, there weren't many ways to sneak in and out, and after a year of living together-by that point they were best friends-Foggy had found out about Jaune's nightly...adventures. That had put a strain on their relationship, but they'd worked it out. Foggy still didn't like what he was doing, but knew that Jaune wouldn't stop completely. However, he'd promised to do it less since studying and training at Beacon would take up a significant amount of time.

* * *

After a quick breakfast followed by a heartfelt goodbye to his friend, Jaune was on the airship to Beacon. He stood, leaning against a wall with his hands resting on his walking cane. He could tell people were giving him odd looks, maybe wondering how a blind boy could get into Beacon or if he even _was_ blind. Whatever the case, he was used to it.

He heard a rather strangled cry, the kind Jaune sometimes gave when Foggy bear-hugged him. "Oh! I'm so happy my baby sister's going to Beacon with me! This is the best day ever!" He heard. His senses picked up two girls, one the same age as he and the other a few years younger. The smaller girl choked out, "Please stop." Before the other one, her apparent older sister whined, "But I'm so proud of you!"

"Really, sis, it was nothing." Jaune just kind of tuned the rest of their words out, instead focusing on the other students around him. He mostly just picked up useless banter, so he decided to find a seat and relax a bit. Sweeping his cane in front of himself with practiced, fluid movement, he managed to find an unoccupied seat along one of the side benches that ran the length of the airship's deck beneath a giant window.

After a while, he heard the holographic news footage flicker off and another hologram flicker on. Unfortunately, hi senses were worthless in the digital world, so he waited for the projection to make a sound.

Incidentally, it was Glynda Goodwitch welcoming the new first years, giving a half B.S. speech about how they should be honored to have been accepted and how Vale was in an 'incredible time of peace'.

A few moments later, the airship docked at Beacon's grounds and Jaune stepped out among the other new students.

Walking around the vast grounds of Beacon, Jaune heard a distant sneeze...followed by an explosion.

The young man followed the sound back to the loading docks where the airships docked and picked up a girl, the younger one form the airship, being yelled at by-judging from the voice-Weiss Schnee. Another girl interrupted the heiress's scorning and both left, leaving the younger girl to lay down on the ground and mope. Jaune decided to help her out, knowing how hard it is to fit in in a new place. Hell, he lived in an orphanage for six months until...nevermind, focus on the task at hand.

"Hey. I'm Jaune." He had out his hand to the girl, who took and he helped her up.

"Ruby." She kind of stood there a bit awkwardly, Jaune knew what she was thinking.

"Yes, I'm blind."

* * *

After walking around the grounds of the school, the two strolled into the auditorium. They were, undoubtedly, the strangest pair to walk in. Ruby and Jaune felt the weird stares people gave them. A fifteen year old scythe wielder and a blind guy three years her senior at an advanced combat school. Could've been a sitcom.

"Ruby, over here!" He recognized the other girl from the ship's voice. "I saved you a spot!"

Ruby gave a quick goodbye before moving through the crowd to get to her friend. Jaune leaned against the back wall lowering his head slightly as his expression changed to on of deep concentration. His blue eyes, blank and hidden behind black glasses, narrowed. His ears twitched as he listened around him. Mostly just useless garbage, but he did pick up on somethings.

He heard Ruby, her friend and Weiss arguing, he heard Weiss address Jaune as 'tall, blonde and scraggly'. He heard Prof. Ozpin and Ms. Goodwitch conversing behind the auditorium stage. Their word exchange ended and Ozpin approached the lone microphone on stage with Prof. Goodwitch.

"I'll keep this brief. You have travelled here today in search of knowledge. To hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you are finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy. In need of purpose, direction. You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step." He then walked off and Goodwitch told them to sleep in the ballroom and that initiation would be in the morning.

* * *

Jaune chose a spot in one of the corners. That had two of his sides covered, and he sat facing the rest of the room. He winced as he rubbed his sore ribs and decided to speed up the healing process. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees. Deep breaths in and out. In and out.

He felt his mind clearing, the ache in his side fading. After a few more minutes he decided to turn in so he'd get plenty of sleep for tomorrow.

* * *

Jaune woke up to nothingness. Just empty blackness. Nothing except for a dark, meaningless void of pure nothing. Typical Saturday morning. All he needed was a bowl of cereal and a radio. He rose slowly, stretching his back and neck, hearing a series of popping sounds. He listened and felt the sound waves from the stirring initiates and footsteps bounce around the enormous ballroom.

He got up, rolling up his bedroll and grabbing his cane. He swept it in an arc and made his way to the dining hall, following the smell of bacon and eggs.

He grabbed a light meal of eggs, milk and fruit and sat at one of the tables. As the boy ate, he felt a strange sensation, like a small wave of electricity approaching from his right. Suddenly, a teenage girl rushed over and sat across from him at the table, soon joined by another boy. The pair seemed to be polar opposites, the girl bouncing in her seat and scarfing down pancakes while the boy seemed eternally gripped by the mitts of sleep.

"Uh, can I help you two?"

He heard the boy speak, "I apologize for my friends rushed entry. I'm Lie Ren, this is Nora."

"Jaune." He shook Ren's hand, then Nora yanked it and vigorously shook it. "Hi! I'm Nora, Nora Valkyrie. My friend and I were looking for a place to sit and I thought we could sit here and start getting to know other students. I like your glasses. Why are you wearing them indoors? Isn't it hard to see?"

"It's always hard to see." Jaune answered, removing the glasses and revealing his cobalt orbs. His milky pupils remained un-dilated at the exposure of the morning light. "Ooohh. Are you blind? How can you fight? Do you have super senses like Spider Man? Oh, what am I thinking of right now?"

"Nora, he's blind, not telepathic."

"How do you know that?" Jaune asked with a grin. The two went silent. Jaune then did something he rarely did anymore. He laughed. An honest, hearty laugh that he hadn't heard from his own mouth in a long time. "I'm kidding. I do have pretty sensitive hearing though." Nora then chuckled and scratched the back of her head. "Hehe, you really got us there, Jauney. So, know anything about initiation? Heard anything with your super-ears?"

"Nothing more than what anyone else knows."

"Well then maybe we could all be on a team! N-R-J, we could be team Energy!"

"Aren't the teams made of four members?"

"Oh, potato-potāto. We'll make it work. Nothing can stop team NRJ!"

After a few more minutes of lively conversation, Jaune finished and said goodbye, heading to the locker rooms.

He walked with his hand running along the lockers, thankful that the numbered plates included braille. Next to him, two girls talked about the arrangement of teams. He recognized the Schnee girl, along with someone she called Pyrrha.

He'd heard the Mistralian champion had picked Beacon. He started donning his combat gear. A few moments later, Jaune was dressed in a dark blue, tight fitting shirt under a black leather jacket that he left unzipped. Below that he wore dark grey combat pants with square metal studs attached to the knees. He'd also sewn on similar metal studs to the elbows of the jacket. In addition, he had specially made, padded boots. They had the shape and feel of moccasins, but were black and had ballistic fiber weaved into the fabric and had steel plates on the toes to strengthen them.

Next came his weapons. On his hands were Shrouded Fists. They were black bracers with blue accents. There were special wires sewn into the gloves leading from his fingertips, around the first digits of the fingers and then they ran along the top of his hands to the wrist, where a ring of multi colored chambers wrapped around his wrists. These were what carried small amounts of dust along the gloves to give his punches an extra oomph. All he had to do was tap his thumbs to the special pressure pads on his finger tips to select which dust he wanted. Each bracer had four chambers, he'd filled the left one with fire, ice, lightening and wind while the right held fire, ice, earth and gravity dust.

Jaune's other weapon was Gambit, a collapsable, steel plated bow staff with intricate designs and images hand carved into it. It had a thin chain inside so that it could be split to form nunchucks, bokken or even a grappling hook. As a bonus, once the two halves of it were split, they could shift into curved, twin daggers. After his latest nightly rounds, he'd invested in a set of six throwing knives that he sheathed on his thighs.

As he got equipped, he knocked his cane over and it landed at the foot of the other girls. He tapped Ms. Nikos on the shoulder and gestured to his cane on the floor. "Oh, here." She handed it back, and Jaune thanked her and walked away. He past Nora and Ren, then bumped into Ruby and her friend form the other day.

"Oh, hey Jaune. I didn't see you there." He felt a rather...predatory gaze fall on him. He heard a small thump, figuring that Ruby's friend had nudged her. "Oh, Jaune, this is my sister, Yang."

"Hey there, handsome." They shook hands briefly. Jaune nodded to her. "See something you like?" She asked slyly. Jaune grinned. "Nope."

"Excuse me?!" Jaune felt the air around the girl rise about fifty degrees and thought he smelled smoke. "Yang! Calm down! Jaune's... he can't...he's..."

"Tall? Rugged? Handsome?" Jaune questioned. "Yep-" Yang quipped as she cooled off, but was interrupted by her younger sister.

"Blind! He's blind." She said, clearly embarrassed by Yang's flirting. Jaune wasn't helping either.

"Oh yeah, I always forget that one. Ladies." He moved past them and headed to the exit. Jaune was greeted with the warmth of the morning sun as he stepped out of the locker room. He smelled fresh cut grass under his feet, heard the beards chirping and, if he concentrated, he could hear morning dew on the grass turn to vapor. The young man kept his pace even, his boots and the grass muffling any hint of a footfall. He found the cliffs in time and took his place on a large stone platform.

Soon, all the other initiates arrived and stood on similar platforms in a line on the cliff. Once everyone, including Ozpin and Goodwitch, arrived, Ozpin gave a short speech.

"For years, you have trained to become warriors. Today, your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest."

"Now, I'm sure many of you have heard rumors about the assignment of teams. Allow us to put an end to your confusion. You will be given teammates today." Professor Goodwitch said.

"These teammates will be with you for the remainder of your time here at Beacon. So, it is in you best interest to be paired with someone with whom you can work well. That being said, the first person you make I contact with after landing will be your partner for the next few years."

"What?!"

"See? I told you!"

 _'Welp, I'm boned.'_ Jaune thought.

"After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way. Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path, or you will die. You will be monitored and graded for the duration of the initiation, but our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing a number of relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff. Any questions? Good. Now take your positions."

Jaune heard gears shift to his right, followed by a rush of air and realized that Ozpin was a complete sociopath. He was launching the students into the forest.

If there were two things Jaune hated in life, it was snow and free falling. Snow was cold and felt like glass cutting into his skin and when he was falling he could barely tell what was happening around him. Especially when-

 _WHOOSH_

And now he's flying.

* * *

"Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!" Jaune sailed through the air, trying to tell where he was going or what was in front of him. He'd been falling for a long time when he heard air being displaced and twisted to avoid something long and pointy try to intercept him.

The boy pumped his aura into...well, everything once his body started crashing through foliage. He crossed his arms in front of him to brace himself as his left side hit a tree. He pushed off the tree with his arms, the impact jarring him and sending pain up his arms. He landed and rolled, crying out in pain. Once he came to a stop, he rolled over onto his back and waited to catch his breath. Jaune could still hear the blood in his ears, but he managed to stand up. His legs felt a bit weak, so he put his hand on the closest tree to steady himself. He prayed he didn't have a concussion.

He reached for his staff when he heard rustling in the bushes. However, it turned out to be one of the initiates. Judging by the weight of the footfalls, clanking of bronze armor and strange but nice scent of cherries and metal, it was Pyrrha Nikos.

"Oh, hello there."

"Hi." Jaune approached her and looked where he guessed her eyes were. He noticed she bore a circular shield on her left arm, but he could detect no other weapon. "So, just a random thought, but you didn't happen to throw some kind of spear or sword at me, did you?"

...

Jaune and Pyrrha finally found Pyrrha's spear, Miló, where it was impaled high in a tree. Jaune reached for Gambit and extended it to two feet, then pressed a button. Half the weapon shot out, tethered with a thin black chain. He gave a slight twirl of his wrist and wrapped the chained bar around the spear. With a short tug, he pulled the weapon toward him and caught it in his other hand.

He spun it over his fingers and handed it to his new partner. He bowed and raised it up in both hands like it was a royal scepter. "Your weapon, milady."

Pyrrha giggled and took it, "Thank you, sir Arc." They continued their truck during the temple.

After a few minutes, Jaune stopped. He inhaled deeply through his nose and his ears perked up. "What is it, Jaune?" He remained silent before pulling out Gambit and moved toward a narrower path through some thickets. Pyrrha followed, and they stopped once the pair found a large cave carved into a big hill. Unbeknownst to Jaune, there were a bunch of crude drawings of people fighting a big creature on the sides of the opening. He could here an empty sound, like when you hold a seashell up to your ear at the beach.

"Do you think this is it?" Pyrrha questioned. The boy shrugged, "I'll check."

He approached the mouth of the cave, then tapped one end of Gambit on the cave wall a few times. The sounds echoed throughout the whole tunnel, and Jaune could pick up a large, sleeping form in the cave. But as the taps faded out, the creature stirred and a large extremity raised in an arc over its body. "RUN!"

They both turned tail and headed away, hearing a very high pitched screech and rumbling of a bunch of big feet.

Pyrrha looked over her shoulder and saw a giant deathstalker bust through the cave mouth and start giving chase. "Jaune, we should go faster."

 _SSCRRREEEEEEEEEEE!_

"MUCH FASTER!"

Contradicting her suggestion, Jaune stopped, tapping his right index finger to his thumb and causing the bracers to glow red. He extended Gambit to it's staff form and gripped it with his finger tips planted on small, barely detectable depressions that fit perfectly with the tips of his bracers. Immediately, trails of red spread from his hands along the staff, and once they reached the ends of the staff, he through it like a javelin and sent into one of the grimm's largest eyes.

He ran past Pyrrha, yelling, "Cover me!" over his shoulder. Pyrrha stopped and switch her weapon to it's rifle mode and fired several dust rounds at the deathstalker's eyes.

Jaune switched the dust output in his gloves to ice and transmitted it to Gambit, the red lines turning blue. The boy spun under one of the creature's giant claws, thrusting the staff at it and effectively encasing it in a thin layer of ice. As the beast attempted to shake off the coating of ice, Jaune and Pyrrha went back to their... tactical retreat. Yeah, that's it.

They made it to a larger clearing, Pyrrha saw a group of students in front of a large stone temple. Jaune could hear large wings flapping overhead, assuming a Nevermore had followed some of the other initiates here. He could also here a whiney voice call out from the direction of the bird, but couldn't tell what the voice was saying.

Jaune felt the equivalent of a truck full of tanks full of smaller trucks hit him in the back and send him into a tree. His body bounced off painfully and he fell to the ground, landing on his stomach. He could feel his senses darken, his body become heavy as unconsciousness threatened to bring him into its embrace...

"Jaune!" _That voice... Who is that?_

"Jaune!" _Oh, right, Pyrrha. I wonder what she's doing..._

 _SSCREEEEEEECH!_

 _Oh yeah, we were fighting an oversized scorpion that we found in a cave._

Jaune slowly rose to his feet and shook his head. He started over to Pyrrha, where she'd been bitch-slapped by the deathstalker over to the temple. He started to make it over, but was soon crushed by something. He vaguely registered a feminine voice say, "My hero."

All he could do was weakly groan out, "My back." Jaune felt the weight on his spine be lifted off and he got up, making sure nothing was broken. At worst, he'd have a couple bruised ribs. Nothing he couldn't power through.

"Jaune, are you alright?" Pyrrha came over and helped him up. "I...yes, I'm fine. Thanks, Pyrrha." She didn't seem to believe him, but left it alone for the moment.

"I've already got a relic, so have all the other pairs here."

Jaune nodded. There were eight of the in total, including himself. Ren, Nora, Ruby, Pyrrha, Weiss, Yang and one more girl he hadn't met yet. The eight of them against an adult deathstalker and nevermore. Sounds like a killer Saturday night.

* * *

The group made their way through the woods, approaching the cliffs as fast as they could. Jaune heard the nevermore soar overhead, the Deathstalker treading after them. They had a good distance between them and it, but their advantage wouldn't last long.

Soon, they were back on open ground, approaching a ridge strewn about with decrepit stone structures. They took cover behind giant stone columns to avoid the whirlwind the giant nevermore sent as it flared its wings and settled on top of a tower across the ravine. The Deathstalker chose that moment to break through the treeline. "You've gotta be clowning with me." Jaune muttered. "Run!"

They pushed forward, Nora firing grenades at the Nevermore as the group made it to the bridge that spanned across the ravine. Pyrrha stopped and fired back at the Deathstalker as Ruby, Nora, Weiss and Ren made it across before the winged grimm crashed through the stone columns keeping the bridge up. Jaune stopped in his tracks and turned back to face the scorpion. He charged up the front with Gambit fully extended while Yang and Blake attacked at the sides. He ran past Pyrrha where she was firing at its head, but the bullets only bounced off the shell.

"Aim for its eyes!" He yelled before ducking under a claw and jamming his staff between the grimm's fangs. he charged some ice dust through his weapons and let out a flurry of strikes, freezing the creature's eyes. He had to sidestep a story round from Pyrrha's rifle before the Deathstalker lashed out again, sending him into a stone column. He couldn't tell if the cracking noise came from his spine or the rock before he lost conciousness again.

* * *

 ** _Nine years ago..._**

 _Jaune slept with hushed laying on the kitchen table. He was shaken awake by his father as the man laid his gym bag by the door and opened up the fridge to get an ice pack. "Wake up, Jaune, you gotta finish up."_

 _"I'm tired, dad."_

 _"Well, I don't want you to end up like your old man." He sat down and pressed he ice pack to his face. "I never studied. Look where it got me..." He realized his mistake and brought his son's hand up to his swollen, bloodied face. "Come on, Jauney."_

 _"Get to work."_

* * *

 _Get to work..._

 _Get to work._

 _Get to work g_ _et to work_ _g_ _et-to-work-_ _g_ _et-to-work-_ _g_ _ettowork_ _g_ _ettowork_ _g_ _ettowork._

Jaune rose slowly, registering the sounds of combat as his new friends fought the Deathstalker and Nevermore. His stance was unsteady, his head and back ached like hell. But he still had a job to do. He couldn't just leave his friends hanging.

The blind boy got up, his breathing becoming slow and even. His senses took in the sounds of combat, the smell of the scorpions blood as Blake cut one of its legs off. The sound of Yang launching herself at its eyes. Pyrrha landing and rolling across the grass as she dodged another giant pincer. He reached for Gambit and let his fingers run over the smooth metal. He found the indentations where his gloved hands fit and the staff started glowing a mix of purple and green.

He felt the staff become heavier, but also lighter, like two forces were pushing it up and down at the same time. The gravity and wind dust took affect fast and he moved toward the Grimm.

* * *

"Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao-Long. You four retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as team ABNY (Ebony)." The applause rose and fell as Jaune's new team walked off stage. "He was _really_ reaching with the color themed-name thing." Jaune remarked. Up next was Ruby, Ren, Nora and Weiss.

"Ruby Rose, Nora Valkyrie, Weiss Schnee, Lie Ren. You four retrieved the white rook pieces. From now on, you shall work together as team RVWR (River).

" _Really_ reaching." Blake agreed.

* * *

 **So, this one probably won't go anywhere, but figured I'd put it up anyway. Stay tuned for more "quality content" coming soon.**


	14. 12: Self-Deprecation

**Summary: So, I've been watching a lot of Bojack Horseman and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, so I thought of writing Jaune as a depressed, half-neurotic whiner with some confidence and existentialism issues.**

 **Warning: Contains substance abuse and depression.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Substance**

As Ruby stumbled around Beacon's courtyard, she felt that her first day there could only get worse if she stumbled into someone and spill their luggage or something.

So, naturally, she did exactly that.

"Ugh! What do you think you're doing?!" Ruby sat up from the ground and looked at the white-haired girl standing over her.

"I-I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry? Do you have any idea of the damage you could've caused?!" She demanded as Ruby stood up.

"This is Dust," The girl said as she walked over to the pile of suitcases, "mined and purified from the Schnee quarr-EEK!" The girl leapt back while screaming and dropping the case, causing some of its contents to puff out in a red-tinted cloud. When the mostly-metal case hit the cobblestone walkway, it sparked and ignited the airborne Dust, triggering an explosion of fire, ice and lightening.

Once the smoke cleared and everyone's ears stopped ringing, Ruby saw the source of the other girl's surprise. Under most of the cases, laying on the bed of the luggage cart and apparently asleep was a teenage boy wearing a wrinkled black hoodie and jeans.

Ruby reached out and tapped him on the head, causing the boy's body to jerk before he rolled over, falling to the floor on his back.

"Ow. . ." He mumbled as he opened his semi-bloodshot eyes.

"What is the meaning of this!? Security! There's a homeless man on campus!" The white girl cried as Ruby got up and stepped back from both of them.

"Ugh. . . Easy on the yelling, Princess. I ain't the one who dumps their luggage on someone when they're clearly asleep. . . wait, what day is it? Also, where am I?" He asked as he tried to sit up, only to get vertigo and lay back on the nice, firm, warm floor. . .

"You!" The girl yelled, causing him to startle awake and shoot up onto his feet.

"I have half a mind to have you arrested! Trespassing, violating private property, _clear_ public drunkeness-"

"Uh, if being drunk in public was a crime, everyone'd have a record." The blonde boy muttered as he pulled a small bottle of eyedrops out of his pocket. He craned his head back and squirted the liquid into his blue eyes before blinking rapidly and sucking air through his teeth, "Oh, wow that is brisk!" He cried as his eyes absorbed the drops.

He shook his head as the fog in his mind dissipated and he could see things clearly. "I'm sorry, what happened to your luggage, Miss. . . And she's gone." He said as the white girl walked away.

"I think _you_ happened to her luggage." The red girl told him, "Or _we_ happened, depending on who you ask."

Jaune took in his surroundings as past events came back to him. He was on the airship to Beacon. He vomited in a trashcan once it landed, then saw the carpet-lined bottom of the cart and decided to take a nap, and now he was here.

"Hey,"

"Hm? I'm sorry?" Jaune asked as the girl tried to get his attention.

"I said my names Ruby."

"Oh. I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc."

"Yeah. We've. . . Sort of already met."

"Really?"

"Kinda. You threw up on my sister's shoes on the airship."

"Kid, I've thrown up on a lot of girls' shoes. You'll have to be more specific." He said as he took a small orange bottle out of his pocket. The blonde popped the top off it and shook a few of its contents into his mouth before washing it all down with what was probably water.

"Um, what are those?" Ruby asked.

"Mostly painkillers mixed with candy. I call 'em Mike-and-Vikes."

"Oh. . . Are you in a lot of pain?" She asked him. Jaune stopped and stared at her for a minute before he laughed and started walking off somewhere. They ended up in a smaller courtyard with too many plants as Ruby tried showing off her weapon, a giant scythe-sniper rifle named Crescent Rose. "How about you? What do you have?"

"Great question. . . " Jaune said as he patted himself down and went over to a stone bench. He had on him:

His family sword and shield, Crocea Mors, a Ka-Bar Boot knife on his belt, an IMI Micro Uzi with two magazines, a Smith&Wesson 500 Magnum with a 4-inch barrel, a bottle and a half of Mike-and-Vikes, half an ounce of Northern Lights Cannabis Indica, two fifths of bourbon, a pack of cigarettes, three fifths of vodka, a fifth of whiskey and half of a turkey sandwich form Benelli's.

"Wow! Where'd you get those guns?" Ruby asked as she ogled the firearms.

"I have. . . No idea." He said.

"Do you know where you got the sword?"

"Oh, yeah. That's a family heirloom. My great grandpa used it to fight in some big war." Jaune replied.

"Uh, do you mean the Great War?"

". . . Sure."

"Ok, but what's with all the flasks and pills and-"

"It's medicinal!" Jaune said as he hastily gathered his things. He tried to make a break for it, running a total of four steps before he stopped and threw up into a bush.

He stayed there, waiting for things to turn numb again until he felt a hand rubbing his back. His sickened groans turned to a comfortable hum before he straightened up. Jaune turned to see Ruby standing next him, trying not to make eye contact.

"Wait, you're still here?" He asked.

* * *

The next thing Jaune knew, he was in a big ballroom with a bunch of empty sleeping bags around him. He'd been woken up by someone's foot nudging his leg, and opened his eyes to see a big dude in a burgundy suit standing over him.

"It's time for initiation, boy-o."

"What?"

"Initiation. For Beacon."

". . . What?"

The man sighed and shook his head before walking away. Jaune sat up and yawned. It was a good thing he'd cut bourbon with water, so he didn't have that bad of a hangover. He went to the bathroom and washed up as best he could.

His hair was as unkempt as ever, his eyes weren't bloodshot, he had some light scruff on his chin, and his breath was god awful.

Jaune showered and brushed his teeth before swishing a mouthful of vodka around his mouth to kill that last 0.01% of germs. He went to the locker room, checking the number he wrote down on his hand at some point last night.

 _Was it 636 or 939?_

The blonde found his locker, finally, in between two familiar-looking girls talking to each other like a famous celebrity and the cyber-stalker she never thought she'd meet in person ever.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over, trying to recall his combination.

* * *

"So Pyrrha, have you given any thought to whose team you'd want to be on? I'm sure everyone would be eager to unite with such a strong individual like yourself." Weiss said as the Mistralian before her strapped on the last of her armor. She hummed in thought for a moment before answering, "I haven't given it much thought. I was planning on letting the chips fall where they may."

"Well in that case, I was thinking that maybe you and I could be on a team together." The Schnee said hopefully.

"That sounds grand." The redhead said cheerfully. And with those three words, Weiss could build her future. They'd be the strongest team in their year, rising through the ranks as their time here only made them better huntresses. They'd be unstoppable! Popular! Have perfect grades! They'd-

"Fiiiiiiiiiinally." A tired voiced groaned out behind her. She turned around just to see the blonde miscreant from yesterday practically fall against one of the lockers next to Pyrrha and she. He looked like he was trying to find something on its door before he pulled out his scroll and knocked it against the electric lock. Once opened, he took out a myriad of items that could get him put on every no-fly list in the kingdoms.

"You!" She barked as he shut the door, making him jump and look around.

"Who?"

"You! You scraggly, mangey, uncivilized dolt! You're the one that was going through my luggage yesterday!"

"Uh, if I remember correctly, Princess, _I_ was fast asleep while _you_ dumped _your_ luggage on _me_. . . Although, I may not remember that correctly. I _was_ hammered." He said before his eyes moved to the taller, more _filled out_ girl standing behind the gremlin.

"Well hello, Ten. I'm Jaune." He said with a smile, "If you really are worried about teams and such, maybe you could join mine."

"Oh, I-uh, I-well, hello, um-" Pyrrha stuttered out before being cut off by Weiss, "Hey! Do you have _any_ idea who you're talking to?"

"Not in the slightest, Eight."

Weiss fumed internally, but managed to keep her composure, " _This_ is Pyrrha,"

"Hello again."

"Pyrrha graduated top of her class at Sanctum." Weiss boasted.

"Never heard of it." Jaune said.

"She's the four-time winner of the Mistral Regional Tournament."

"Not ringing any bells."

"Ugh! She's on the box for Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes Cereal!" Weiss yelled.

Jaune narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to get a better look. Then he remembered something,

 _A house party while n vacation in Nottamun Town, Jaune was blasted on weed and redbull-vodkas. Then, sitting in a bowl on his kitchen counter, was the greatest cereal he'd ever eaten. It took him to his grandmother's house on Thanksgiving, eating pumpkin pie with his sisters. It was like eating an angel's shredded up wings. It was. . . perfection._

"Oh yeah. I thought I knew you form somewhere." Jaune recalled as he took a swig from his bourbon.

"Um, Jaune, is now really the time to drink that?" The redhead asked.

Jaune looked at her a second, then to the flask, then back to her. "I missed breakfast."

"Anyway. . . After hearing all that, do you really think you have what it takes to be on a team with _her_?" Weiss asked the blonde.

He shrugged, "Sure."

"Well, I think you'd make a great teammate, Jaune." Pyrrha said.

"Oh, stop it." He said with a wave.

"Yeah, Pyrrha, stop it. This behavior should _not_ be encouraged." Weiss said.

Jaune leaned back against the locker and groaned, "Where is all the anger coming from, Weissy?"

"Do _not_ call me that. And I'm not angry!" She snapped.

"Keep telling yourself that." He said as he walked off.

"Hey Jaune!" The boy turned to see Ruby and a taller, bustier blonde girl walking towards him. "Oh, good morning. . . I wanna say Robin?"

"Ruby."

"Ruby. Right. Whassup?"

"I wanted to introduce you to my sister, Yang." She said, gesturing to the blonde girl.

"Is this the same sister I threw up on yesterday?" He asked.

"Wait, that was you?!" Yang asked.

"No. Definitely not. We've never met before." He said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, we've got initiation to go to!"

* * *

"You remind me of my mother." Jaune told Headmaster Ozpin as he hurled all the initiates into the Emerald Forest. "Mostly because you're both batshit inSAAAAAAAAAAANE!" The platform underneath him shot him into the sky.

He righted himself in the air, feeling the wind howl past his ears as he saw his life fly through his mind. There were a _lot_ of gaps once he hit puberty.

So, like any rational eighteen year-old would do in this situation, he took another swig of vodka, popped a couple codeine pills and hoped he'd go numb by the time he hit ground.

Instead of a head-on impact, however, Jaune felt his body lurch to the left as something intercepted his body, pinning him to a large tree and forcing him to dangle there like a deli meat. As the initial shock and nausea wore off, Jaune looked up to see that the thing that saved him was a red and bronze spear stuck through his hoodie.

 _Hmmmm. Stuck in a tree, too high to jump down, too drunk to care. . ._ And then he passed out.

 _Jaune. . ._

 _Jaune._

"Jaune!"

"Huh-what?" The blonde startled awake, "Noir?"

He squinted in the midmorning light before he saw the source of the yelling in the form of Pyrrha. She stood there, her arms crossed and a worried expression on her face until she saw him awake. She reached a hand toward her spear and it seemingly loosened itself and floated right down to her hand. Unfortunately, that left Jaune to fall down the tree. His aura cushioned the blow, though, so no harm no foul.

"Oh, gods! Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked him.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got a lot of aura. I can take a lickin' and keep on tickin' for days, as they say." He replied as he dusted himself off. She smiled and put her spear away, "Well, is there still room on that team of yours, Jaune?"

"Ha ha." Jaune said as he took another sip of vodka.

They started walking through the trees.

"So, you're really some big champion fighter up in Mistral?" He asked her. She brushed a stray hair behind her ear and looked down, "Well, yes. I've fought in tournaments since I first enrolled in Sanctum."

"Huh. How'd that turn out?" He asked casually. Pyrrha looked at him strangely.

"Did I say something wrong?"

The redhead shook her head, "No, no. It's just. . . I'm not used to speaking so. . . informally about this stuff. Usually it's just overbearing fans or representatives looking to make sponsorship deals."

"Oof. Sounds annoying." Jaune replied, picking at a spattering of dried up glue on his hand.

"If I'm being honest, yes. It can be pretty stressful sometimes, but I suppose it'll be worth it when I become a professional."

"Oh yeah. What is it with the general public glorifying teenagers fighting for amusement and money, but if adults do it its a 'bum fight' and gets you 'banned from Outback Steakhouse'?"

"Um. . . I don't think it's so black and white as an age issue."

"Whatever." Jaune said as they approached a cave.

 _How the hell is there a big-ass cave like this out here? How did we not notice the cliff it leads into before?_

 _Obviously it's because you're a stupid alcoholic and just being around you is making Pyrrha dumber by proxy._

 _Fair enough._

Jaune decided to make the smart decision and not go into the cave. They were looking for a temple, after all.

 _Unless. . . that's what Ozpin wanted them to do. What if the cave was a shortcut? What if the temple was_ in _the cave? What if they keep moving on and never find the cave and he's the reason they both fail?_

"Jaune."

"Hm?" The blonde turned to his partner, "Sorry. I was thinking." He turned to the cave once more.

 _Okay, we'll just go in for a few minutes to look around. We will not commit to the cave and we'll be ready to book it out to find the temple somewhere else._

* * *

"God damnnit! Stupid stupid stupid fucking idiot! What were you thinking?! A temple inside a cave?! How fucking stupid are you?!"

"I'm sorry!"

"What? No, not you!" Jaune yelled as the Deathstalker chased them. As it turned out, plunging into a dark cave with nothing to light their way but a vodka-soaked torch wasn't exactly a plan for the history books.

He fired his Uzi over his shoulder in panicked bursts while the pair ran through the woods. They must've ran for miles when they found the temple on the other side of a wide clearing, and could see other people up ahead.

They met up with them a few minutes later when the Grimm flung them across the grounds and Ruby and Weiss froze it in place to buy everyone some time.

 _Great. Saved by a goth twelve year-old and a Schnee with a bigger stick up her ass than Verde. The family'll love this at our next brunch._

"Are you alright, Jaune?" His partner asked.

"As rain." He replied before going over and grabbing a chess piece form the temple rotunda. "Some relic."

. . .

From there, they went on to defeat the evil monsters and finish initiation with flying colors. Everything was looking up until initiation.

"-you will work together as Team JNPR, led by Jaune Arc."

". . . Fuck."


End file.
